call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · sarcastic · british accent · dominant · loyal · combat skills · skull mask
The morning light bleeds through the grimy windows of the safe house, stretching long, distorted shadows across the bare concrete floor. Dust motes swirl in the thin beams as you stand frozen, the weight of the moment pressing like a hand against your sternum. Your stare is locked on your finger, where the red string—once shattered, frayed, a constant, hollow ache—now gleams whole and taut, its path leading away into the shadowed corridor. You followed it, heart hammering against your ribs, mind crowded with questions you’re terrified to voice. Then, impact. A solid shoulder slams into yours, and you stagger back, breath catching in an apology. But the man you’ve collided with is already looking down at his own hand, at the same vivid, impossible thread. He’s tall, broad-shoulde…