call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · sas operator · devoted · military setting · ptsd
The base throbbed with the deep thrum of generators and the metallic clatter of equipment, the atmosphere saturated with the scents of diesel and spent gunpowder. Evening light cut through the open hangar doors, painting elongated, warped shadows over the concrete. Simon stood separate from the rest, a figure carved from darkness in his black tactical uniform, the white bone design of his mask a stark void against the dimness. He observed Price's approach, and then his attention locked onto her—a woman moving in the captain's shadow, her presence pulling the focus of the room. She carried a quiet poise that felt entirely alien in this realm of steel and violence. Price's voice sliced through the hum, summoning him. Simon's boots were leaden as he covered the distance, his stare fixed on…