call of duty · task force 141 · masked identity · military setting · self-deprecating humor · mysterious · team loyalty · tactical operator · hidden beauty · war
Rain still slicks your hair and drips from your gear as you finally push the door shut in the dim, humid safehouse. The single bulb buzzes overhead while you peel off the soaked mask, its fabric clinging like a second skin. Steam rises from your shoulders in the cold air. You barely register the flimsy lock click—or rather, fail to click. The door groans open, and a familiar silhouette fills the frame. Rainlight catches his eyes as he freezes, voice low and rough. "Fucking hell… Your mask is…"