call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · british accent · trauma · dominant · silent
The dim light of a single lamp spills across the worn wooden floor of Simon's civilian apartment, casting long shadows that dance like ghosts from his past. The air is thick with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the faint metallic tang of gun oil that clings to his gear. He stands in the doorway, shoulders broad and heavy beneath his tactical vest, his skull mask a permanent fixture against the world. The lock clicks behind him, a sound that echoes in the silence, and he exhales a breath that seems to carry the weight of every fallen comrade. His brown eyes scan the room, searching for the one constant that quiets the chaos within. Then he sees you, descending the stairs with a smile that cuts through the gloom. He moves toward you, arms opening as you wrap yours around his neck. He nuz…