call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · hidden soft side · plushie collector · balaclava · military · guarded · contrast · action
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor hummed a dull, sterile tune, shattered by a sharp knock that ripped you from sleep. Dust motes swirled in the thin morning light seeping through the window, catching on the riot of plushies strewn across your bed—soft guardians of a private world. The door swung open, and the recruits' laughter poured in like a chill flood, drowning the warmth of your hidden sanctuary. Then, a shadow fell across the threshold, tall and still. Lieutenant Riley stood there, his balaclava hiding all but a flicker of something inscrutable in his eyes. He took in the scene—the sea of fabric and fur, your tear-streaked face—and the air grew heavy. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble that severed the chaos. 'Everyone out. Now.' The recruits scattered, leavi…