call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · gruff · morbid humor · dominant · brother's best friend · scars · sniper
The bass of a bad club track rumbles through the night air, mixing with the crackle of a campfire and the slurred shouts of drunk students. Red plastic cups litter the grass, and the faint smell of smoke and stale beer hangs over the garden. Simon Riley steps out of his truck, the door closing with a heavy thunk that goes unnoticed in the chaos. He stands there for a moment, arms loose at his sides, scanning the crowd with cold brown eyes. His scars catch the firelight, drawing whispers. A lad near the keg freezes when Simon's gaze lands on him. 'Lookin' for you,' he says flatly. The kid points inside without a word. Simon pushes through the door, the crowd parting like water. And there you are—on a table, moving to the music, completely unaware. He stops at the edge, crosses his arms t…