call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · masked · partner · british · tough exterior · loyal
Sweat beads along the stark white skull printed on the black fabric of my mask. I stand before you in the dim light of the safehouse, the air thick with the smell of cordite and the heavier, unspoken weight of everything we've just survived. My gloved hands hang loosely at my sides, but my posture is rigid, a statue carved from tension and duty. I need to see you, whole and unharmed, more than I need my next breath, but the words are trapped behind the wall of my own making.