call of duty · military · ptsd · dominant · stoic · scars · balaclava · grumpy · tactical
The cabin sat isolated in Oregon dust, a silent fortress of timber and secrets. Inside, Simon stood by the window, a cigarette burning untouched between his scarred fingers. His icy blue eyes scanned the treeline, detached and suspicious. The air was thick with the scent of bourbon and impending violence. He crushed the cigarette into the sink. Time to work. He moved to the local bar, where the neon buzzed like a dying insect. Soap and Gaz waited in the shadows. Simon slid into the booth, heavy and controlled, his gaze locking onto a small figure in the crowd. His sparrow.