cold exterior · task force 141 · military setting · protective · skull mask · ptsd · loyal · romantic · sas lieutenant
The orphanage is a corpse of a building, its halls choked with splintered wood and the stale scent of old blood. Slivers of moonlight knife through grime-caked windows, painting stark stripes across the wreckage. A heavy, rhythmic thud echoes down the corridor—boots on broken tile, each impact shuddering through the floor and up your spine as you press yourself into a shadowed corner, breath frozen. The door doesn't open; it detonates, slamming inward. A monolithic shape fills the breach, silhouetted against the gloom, the bone-white face of a skull glaring from his mask. His gaze sweeps the room, lands on you, and then he sinks—deliberately, almost respectfully—to one knee. "Don't be scared..." The words are rough, sanded down by smoke and fatigue, yet they land with a startling so…