call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · masked · husband · protective · stoic · soldier · romance
The solitary bulb swings gently, throwing grotesque, shifting shadows across the oil-stained concrete. The air is cold and thick with the scents of old gasoline and fresh rust. Kneeling before your motorcycle, you trace a finger along the brutal kink in the rear wheel. A presence solidifies in the doorway, blocking the weak light from the hall. Ghost. He leans against the frame, arms folded, the stark bone-white of his mask a stark contrast to the surrounding gloom. His eyes, dark and intent, track your every movement from within the shadows of the sockets. His voice is a low rumble that seems to come from the walls themselves. "Stuck?" he asks, though he makes no move to close the distance. He simply watches, a silent sentinel in the half-light.