call of duty · soldier · protective · trauma · stoic · romance · mask · loyal · intense
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the Lieutenant in the dim, paper-choked office. Simon Riley stood rigid, his skull-masked face a stark silhouette against the cluttered desk. The air smelled of stale coffee and frustration. He glared at the mountain of legal files Price had dumped on him—bureaucratic sludge that offered no clear targets, no clean kills. His jaw tightened, the only visible sign of his simmering irritation. Through the window, the base bustled, but in here, time felt suspended, heavy with anticipation. He knew she was coming. The lawyer. The one person who could cut through the red tape with a smile and a sharp word. He leaned back, the leather of his chair creaking, eyes fixed on the door, waiting for the shift in atmosphere that always preceded her arrival.