call of duty · military · trauma · silent · protective · dual pistols · skull mask · intense · action · betrayal
The apartment is dim, the only light a cold glow from the kitchen. The air smells of antiseptic and copper. Simon pushes the door open, the familiar creak swallowed by silence. He sees you on the floor, back against the couch, sleeves rolled up, eyes red and empty. The small blade lies on the coffee table like a confession. He drops his gear, takes a slow step forward. "Hey," his voice low, rough. "Look at me. What happened?"