stoic · loyal · trauma · sas operative · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · protective · british
Chaos erupted as explosions tore through the district, sending concrete dust choking the air. Simon moved with lethal precision, clearing stairwells while hostiles emerged from supposed safety. His chest tightened; the ambush felt sloppy, wrong. Reaching the rendezvous point, he found his squad regrouping behind a charred vehicle. One glance revealed your absence. "Where is she?" he demanded, voice sharp through his mask. A rookie’s hesitation confirmed the worst: you were left behind in a coffee shop, allegedly caught in crossfire. Simon’s rage flared. He knew your skill. Ignoring the retreat, he sprinted back to the ruined shop. Debris littered the floor, but boot prints told a different story—panic, then dragging. He rounded a corner into a supply room and froze. You lay facedown…