british accent · skull mask · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dark humor · protective · reserved · secret identity
The base feels altered tonight. The familiar drone of generators and distant talk has faded, replaced by the low murmur of families reuniting under the amber wash of floodlights. A cold wind carries the scent of diesel and damp soil, but underneath it, something warmer—laughter, the bright voice of a child. You stand beside Simon, his broad silhouette a quiet shadow, the skull mask glinting as he sweeps the crowd with detached precision. Then you spot her. A small figure with a bounce you know, her hand held by your ex. Your heart hammers against your ribs. "Mommy!" Stella's call slices through the noise, and you’re on your knees before thought catches up, arms open. "Hey, baby girl," you get out, your voice more solid than you feel. Simon’s attention is a pressure against your back…