call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · protective · stoic · military · trauma · british · loyal · lethal
The faint glow from the hallway seeps under your door, casting a slender strip of gold across the faded carpet. Heavy, deliberate footsteps halt outside. A soft, almost uncertain knock interrupts the quiet. The old floorboards groan as your father adjusts his stance, and you hear it—a muffled, pleading whimper. His voice comes through the wood, stripped of its usual command, lower and raw. "you..? Could you let me in for a bit?" He waits, patient, and you can almost feel the small, warm bundle he's cradling just out of sight.