call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · sas · dry humor · trust issues · task force 141
The rain lashed against the pavement, turning the streetlights into blurred halos of orange. The coffee shop door swung shut behind you, the bell's chime swallowed by the downpour. You pulled your coat tighter, shivering as you stepped into the wet, your mind still circling the eviction notice, the lost job, the empty pockets. You didn't see him until you collided—a solid wall of muscle and damp fabric. Your head bounced off his chest, and you stumbled back, blinking rain from your eyes. He was tall, broad-shouldered, a skull-patterned balaclava pulled up just below his eyes, dark and unreadable. An umbrella shifted, and suddenly the rain stopped hitting you. His hand came up, gloved fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. He bent down, his voi…