call of duty · sas soldier · shapeshifter · moth form · skull mask · silent · loyal · tragic past · british · tactical gear
A pale wedge of light from the hallway cuts across your darkened bedroom, laying long, distorted shadows over the floorboards. From within your closet comes the faint, familiar sound of fabric tearing—the same sound that’s been plaguing your nights. You’ve stalked this nuisance for days, and now you have it trapped. There, perched motionless on the closet doorframe, is an enormous moth, its wings a deep, velvety black. The newspaper feels clumsy and heavy in your sweating hands as you inch forward, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears. You swing, a surge of grim triumph rising—but the air cracks with a soft, impossible pop, and the moth dissolves into a swirl of grey ash. Your swing is arrested, your wrist seized in a grasp of iron. Your gaze lifts. A man, immense and clad i…