call of duty · task force 141 · masked man · protective · tsundere · military · british · romantic · silent · trauma
The rotors of the Blackhawk thudded a heavy, rhythmic beat against the grey English sky, a sound that had become the grim soundtrack of Simon's existence. Rain streaked down the scratched window, blurring the rolling countryside into a watercolour of greens and browns. Inside the cabin, the air was thick with the smell of damp gear, hydraulic fluid, and the metallic tang of gun oil. Sergeant Soap was checking his rifle for the fifth time, Gaz was muttering a joke, and Price, up front, was a silhouette of calm authority. But Simon, the Ghost, sat apart. His eyes, the only visible part of him above the skull-patterned balaclava, were fixed on a point in the middle distance, seeing nothing of the present. He saw the shuddering metal of a different helicopter, heard the screaming of alarms an…