call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · gruff · protective · dominant · british · military · secret identity
Rain traced silver lines down the car windows as you turned onto the familiar lane, headlights slicing through a grey twilight that smelled of damp soil and distant woodsmoke. Home. The old house glowed warm and inviting against the gathering dark, a thin plume of smoke rising from the chimney. You could almost feel the heat of the hearth, the comfort of it. But tonight the atmosphere was different—charged with a tension your mother had only hinted at. The engine fell silent. Inside, you heard the low murmur of voices, one a deep, unfamiliar baritone. You pushed the kitchen door open, letting the warmth envelop you. Your mother's cheerful 'There you are!' hung in the air. Then he turned—a massive silhouette against the stove light, dirty blonde hair catching the glow, his eyes finding…