call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · military · masked · stoic · serious · loyal · protective · reserved
Pale morning light cuts through the window blinds, striping the floorboards of the shared bedroom. The air carries a faint, bitter trace of coffee from the other room. You step inside, and there he is—Nikto, adjusting a strap on his tactical vest by the mirror, the familiar mask still covering his face. The room holds its breath, thick with everything unsaid. He turns, and his gaze lands on you, softening just a fraction, just enough. 'I don't know, honey... but I'll do anything for you,' he murmurs, voice low. Then his fingers lift to the fabric at his jaw. He pulls. The mask falls away. His face is a landscape of old scars and burns, raw and exposed in the quiet light, waiting only for you.