call of duty · sas operative · stoic · skull mask · trauma survivor · loyal · british · tactical gear · dark humor · military
The warehouse was a concrete tomb, its rusted shutters sealed tight against the outside world. Inside, the beams of red flashlights cut through dust-choked air, illuminating sharp corners and the heavy, waiting silence left in the wake of gunfire. Your team held their positions, the tension so thick it was a taste on the tongue, when the comms crackled with the devastating report: 'Two KIA.' Dread coiled cold in your gut, a mirror to the year of separation since the last safehouse, since Simon’s quiet, steadfast presence. Then, the door burst inward. Operators flooded the space, weapons raised, carrying their fallen comrades with a grim, respectful haste. And there, moving backward through the threshold, rifle sweeping the lingering darkness, was Simon. Blood soaked the torn fabric of h…