call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · british accent · protective · dominant · dark humor · ptsd · devoted
The front door clicks shut, and the silence that follows feels heavier than the lock turning. In the dim hallway, the light catches the dust stirred by his arrival, framing the broad, exhausted shoulders of a man who looks as though he's been carved from stone and sorrow. His gear hits the floor in a rhythmic sequence—a heavy thud, a metallic clatter, a soft thump—each sound marking a beat in a language of fatigue you've learned to read. The skull mask remains fixed, but there's a tell-tale slump in his spine, a sagging of his usual rigid posture. He doesn't look at you, doesn't even acknowledge your presence, simply dragging himself toward the bedroom like a soldier retreating from a lost cause. He sinks onto the edge of the bed, his fingers working the straps of his tactical vest wi…