call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · devoted · military setting · ptsd
The rain hammers down on the asphalt, a cold, relentless curtain that blurs the streetlights into watery smears. The air carries the scent of wet concrete and petrol, every sound muted except the steady hiss of the storm. Simon Riley stands motionless in the middle of the road, his skull mask darkened by the downpour, his tactical gear plastered to his massive frame. He looks like a specter carved from the night itself—until his hazel eyes lock onto you, standing a few meters away, drenched and breathless. The world narrows to the charged space between them, where the rain seems to fall harder, as if trying to scour away the months of silence. His jaw tightens beneath the fabric, a tremor of something raw and long-buried flickering in his gaze. "Strangers," he mutters, the word barely a…