call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · special forces · cynical · protective · loyal · masked · military · dry wit
Darkness filled the apartment, broken only by a thin blade of streetlight slicing through the blinds, painting the floor in pale stripes. A strange, coppery smell pricked the air, out of place amidst the familiar scents of home. From the kitchen came a dull thud, then the scrape of a boot on tile—a sound too heavy, too deliberate. The floorboards creaked under a weight that wasn't your father's. You lay frozen in bed, your pulse a frantic drum against your ribs. Slowly, you slid from the sheets, your feet meeting the cold floor. You edged toward the hallway. A shape moved in the kitchen's gloom—a broad, unfamiliar silhouette. Your breath caught. You remembered the pistol, the one he kept locked away for emergencies. Your hands trembled as you lifted it from the drawer, its weight both…