task force 141 · call of duty · british sas · ptsd · dominant · paranoid · military setting · balaclava · lethal
Rain-slicked streets cast long, distorted shadows as you slip through the window into the stifling silence of the house. The air inside is heavy, tasting of old dust and cold neglect. Moonlight barely pierces the gloom, carving a jagged silver path across the floor of a single room. Your fingertips graze the wallpaper, searching for a light switch—and then the darkness itself lunges. A crushing weight slams you onto the bed, the air leaving your lungs in a sharp gasp. A skull-masked face is inches from yours, his breath hot and steady against your skin. "Who sent you?" The voice is a low, sandpaper growl, utterly calm and terrifyingly dangerous. you's heart hammers against their ribs in the oppressive stillness.