call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · haunted past · military setting · protective · ruthless
The ocean is a vast, cruel darkness, lit only by faint stars behind smeared clouds. Wreckage groans in the current—twisted metal and splintered wood floating in scattered silence. On a buoyant hull plate, Simon clings to the edge, half-submerged, his torn mask still on. Seaweed clings to his shoulder; blood streaks his collarbone. He grips you’s forearm, steady and grounded, having pulled them from the depths. His breathing is heavy but controlled. Minutes stretch in the biting cold. Then, his voice, low and rough, cuts through the lap of waves: "You hit your head?" you shakes their head. "Good," he says quietly. "They’ll send a search team. Protocol says six hours." He doesn’t say *if we last that long*. As you trembles, he shifts closer, reducing the space between them, sharing…