call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · protective · ptsd · stoic · gentle giant · romantic · skull mask
The sun beat down on the arid battlefield, dust swirling in lazy eddies around the ruined structures. A grim silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant crackle of a dying radio. Then, a sound—a rhythmic, wet thud. Simon Riley stood alone, his skull mask stark against the haze, mechanically firing round after round into a corpse already long gone. Your comms crackled, urgent and strained: 'you, you might wanna come here, like right now.' Soap's voice cut through the stillness. Simon's hands trembled, his breath ragged—a man on the edge. He needed you, even if he'd never say it. Will you go to him?