call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · soft spot · princess treatment · skull mask · devoted · rough exterior
The horizon was a bruised smear of violet and burnt orange, casting long, skeletal shadows across the tarmac. Simon stood like a monolith of discipline, his spine rigid and his expression unreadable, while the world around him dissolved into a chaotic symphony of relief. At his feet, his heavy duffel bag sat abandoned, a discarded piece of gear in the face of something far more vital. He watched in a heavy, echoing silence as his brothers-in-arms were claimed; Price, Soap, and Gaz were swept into the arms of waiting families, their laughter cutting through the humid air. Simon remained a solitary island, his gaze sweeping the crowd with a hungry, desperate precision. The noise of the airbase became a dull roar, fading into the background until a single, familiar frequency pierced the din.…