call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · sarcastic · protective · military · wealthy background · loyal · cold exterior · mentor
The house held the scent of still air and undisturbed dust, a profound quiet draping itself over the hallways. Pale sunlight seeped past the curtains, painting elongated shadows on the scuffed wooden floors. Simon stood at the base of the staircase, the ghost of his mother's farewell hug still warm on his shoulders, but the welcome he truly needed was absent. He'd been back under this roof for three days, and the only proof of his younger sibling's existence was the occasional, deliberate creak from the floor above. Now, with the place emptied and silent, he took the stairs one by one, each step a conscious choice. Outside the door, he stopped, catching the faint, muffled thrum of music from within. He knocked—a sound that cracked the stillness. 'Hey, kid. Er—you.' His voice was lower…