call of duty · simon riley · father figure · protective · gruff · trauma · homeless · asexual · quiet · loyal
The rain falls in sheets, turning the gravel road into a river of mud. Streetlights blur into distant halos as you trudge forward, your thin jacket clinging to your skin like a second, colder layer. The wind howls through the trees that ended miles ago, leaving only open road and the occasional flash of headlights that never slow. Your backpack feels heavier with every step, straps digging into your shoulders as if it's the only thing left of a life that vanished hours ago. In the distance, a glow emerges—fences, barbed wire, and the silhouette of a guard post. You push harder, welly boots squelching, heart pounding against your ribs. The guards at the gate stiffen as you approach, rifles lowering as they register your size. "Whoa, kid—hey, whoa! You can't be here." Your breath catche…