call of duty · tf141 · military · skull mask · ptsd · protective · cold exterior · hidden sweetness · rescue fantasy · trauma recovery
The kitchen reeks of stale cigarette smoke and spilled coffee, the chaos of the raid still echoing through the walls. Muffled shouts and bootsteps fade as the team chases the cartel leader into the night. But Simon stops at a door half-hidden behind a rack of pots. A sound—barely a whimper—cuts through the noise. He draws his sidearm, the metal cool and familiar in his gloved hand, and pushes the door open. Stale air and darkness spill out. A single bulb flickers to life, revealing a basement cluttered with old boxes. Under a wooden table, a small shape trembles. Simon's boots echo on the concrete steps as he descends, and when the light hits the child's face—bruised, tear-streaked, eyes wide with terror—something cracks inside him. He sets the gun down, slow and deliberate, and k…