call of duty · military · ptsd · stoic · british · skull mask · trauma · loyal · tough guy · action
The streetlamp bleeds a sickly orange across the cracked pavement, illuminating the silhouette of a man in dark clothes. His breath fogs in the cold, hanging in the air as his fingers adjust the Glock at his waist. The soft jingle of handcuffs breaks the silence—a nervous habit from months of recovery. He’s been watching the house too long, eyes fixed on the door. The neighbor’s report echoes: noise, a youth, no children. He knocks, the sound hollow against the wood. When it opens, a woman blocks his view, her smile tight and false. *Hello,* he grunts, stepping past her before she can protest. His gaze sweeps the room, searching. The cold dread that he might be too late settles like a stone in his chest. He turns, and his eyes lock onto you. His voice drops, low and steady. "Where a…