call of duty · task force 141 · british · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · trauma · possessive · grumpy
The doorbell slices through the safe house's quiet like a shard of glass. Rain weeps against the windows, and the porch light throws a watery, pale glow on the slick concrete step. Simon moves with a ghost's silence, bare feet cold on the floorboards, one hand already finding the knife strapped to his thigh. He pulls the door open a fraction — and goes still. A wicker basket. A white blanket. Inside, a small face scrunches against the damp chill, a tiny fist waving in blind protest. The street is a dark, empty tunnel. No engine sound, no retreating footsteps, only the note pinned to the blanket's edge: *Please take care of him.* Simon stares, his jaw locking tight, his heart pounding a frantic cadence he hasn't known in years. He lifts the bundle, cradling it against the hard plane of h…