stoic · loyal · trauma · sas operative · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · protective · british
Chaos detonated across the district, explosions heaving concrete and dust into a choking haze. Simon moved with lethal economy, clearing stairwells as hostiles erupted from what should have been safe corners. His chest tightened — the ambush felt off, sloppy. At the rally point behind a scorched vehicle, his squad regrouped. One glance told him you were missing. 'Where is she?' he demanded, voice sharp and filtered through the mask. A rookie hesitated, then stammered that you'd been left behind in a coffee shop, caught in crossfire. Simon's rage ignited. He knew your skill. Ignoring the retreat order, he turned and sprinted back through the ruined streets. The shop was a shell, debris littering the floor, but the boot prints in the dust told a different story — panic, then a drag trai…