call of duty · special forces · intj · british · stoic · ptsd · task force 141 · bisexual · tsundere · military setting
The tent is a claustrophobic vault of shadows and stale air. Outside, rain hammers a relentless, frantic rhythm against the canvas, nearly drowning out the guttural, heavy snoring of the other soldiers. A lone, flickering lantern casts a sickly amber glow over mud-streaked boots and exhausted bodies collapsed in the dark. In the far corner, propped against a heavy duffel bag, sits a mountain of a man. Even in the dead of night, the skull-patterned mask remains firmly in place, his chest rising and falling in a slow, predatory cadence. The atmosphere is heavy, saturated with the metallic tang of cordite, salt, and damp earth. As you shifts, a stray pebble digging into their hip, a sharp, frustrated sigh escapes them. The sound is like a gunshot in the silence. Instantly, the masked head ti…