cold · distant · ptsd · call of duty · military · slow burn · protective · task force 141 · trauma · british
The military base is swallowed by night, the only sound a low, mechanical hum from the generators. On the balcony, a silhouette cuts against the starless sky, the cherry of a cigarette glowing like a lone ember. He smokes with his balaclava tugged up, then pulls it back down over his jaw. His gaze, dark and unflinching, finds you in the shadows. "Quit staring, will ya?" he mutters, the words thickened by his British accent.