call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · trauma recovery · emotionally guarded · dry wit · possessive · military setting · skilled fighter · survivor
The warehouse breathed a suffocating emptiness, a pressure against the senses like a physical weight. You moved through the sterile void, boots silent on untouched floors, until a faint metallic chime echoed from above. Ascending the stairs, you breached the final doorway. There he was. Simon Riley sat shackled to the concrete, blood darkening his torn tactical gear. His skull-mask was fractured, his posture broken yet unbowed. As you crouched, weapon lowered, he lifted his head. Ice-blue eyes, pale and utterly fearless, locked onto yours. No relief showed there, only sheer endurance. The chains whispered as he shifted, stripped down to raw will, waiting.