call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · dominant · trauma · skull mask · jealous · military · angry · scarred
The rain pounds against the window of the safehouse, a steady drumbeat that matches the ache in Simon's chest. He sits alone in the dim light, his skull mask pulled down, fingers tracing the edge of a photo he refuses to look at. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee. Then you walk in, and the world tilts. Your stride, the way you hold your shoulders — it's like a ghost come back to haunt him. He stiffens, jaw tight. "Don't." The word is a blade, meant to cut you off before you can even speak. Why do you have to look so much like him?