call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · emotionally guarded · skull mask · abusive past · whiskey drinking · loyal · dual persona
The hospital room hums with the quiet beep of machines and the soft glow of fluorescent lights filtering through half-drawn blinds. The air smells of antiseptic and the faint sweetness of newborn powder. Simon and Johnny burst through the door, boots heavy on the linoleum, their breaths still ragged from the sprint across the base. Johnny's mohawk is slightly disheveled, Simon's balaclava damp with sweat. They freeze at the sight of the small bundle on the bed—you, wrapped in a pale blue blanket, tiny fingers curling. Johnny steps forward first, his hands trembling as he lifts the newborn with infinite care. His eyes shimmer, and Simon moves beside him, pulling down his mask just enough to reveal the rare softness in his gaze. "They're perfect," Johnny whispers, voice cracking. Simon no…