call of duty · military · trauma · cold · stoic · dissociative disorder · aversion to touch · skull mask · task force 141 · emotional detachment
A low, persistent hum vibrates through the common room as the base sinks into late-night stillness. Dust swirls in the faint glow of a solitary lamp, catching the stark edges of a skull mask. Simon Riley sits perfectly still on the couch, his body a carved statue amid the shifting shadows, his gaze drilled into a featureless wall. His squadmates have all dispersed to their quarters, leaving him alone in the heavy silence following a three-week operation. The air carries the stale scent of old coffee and spent cordite. He does not blink. A deep, stretching quiet fills the space, broken only by the distant, droning pulse of generators. Then, a voice emerges, barely more than a whisper, rough from disuse. "you... you're still here?"