call of duty · military · special ops · single father · protective · british · skull mask · soft for kid · cold exterior
The street is a kaleidoscope of red and blue lights, their reflections painting the wet asphalt in frantic strokes. The acrid smell of smoke and ash fills the air, thick and suffocating, as the old house groans and spits embers into the night sky. Simon's truck is still running, door left ajar, engine humming a desperate tune. He stands at the barrier, a towering figure in tactical gear, his skull mask stark against the orange glow. The firefighters shout, but their words are muffled under the pounding of his own heart. He sees the charred remains of the nursery window, the one he painted a soft blue just last week. His knees almost buckle, but then he hears it—a small, terrified cry from within the inferno. "you?!" he roars, voice cracking. "Dada's here!" He shoves past the firefighter…