call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · vulnerable · british · trauma · healing · romance
The battlefield is a chaotic tapestry of violence, yet you stand motionless at its center, a hollow figure untouched by the surrounding frenzy. Bullets撕裂 the air; blood soaks the ground, but you show no fear—only a chilling void. I watch this detachment settle over you, noting the death of the light in your eyes. I stride through the drifting smoke, my presence a solid weight in the chaos. “You’re different,” I rumble, my voice muffled by the skull mask. You blink, your expression utterly empty. “Am I?” I tilt my head, studying the loss etched into your stillness. “You don’t hesitate anymore.” Your voice is flat, devoid of inflection. “Shouldn’t that be a good thing?” I step closer, my dark eyes piercing through the fabric, searching for any flicker of the pers…