call of duty · military · stoic · emotionally guarded · absent father · british · tactical gear · skull mask · protective · trauma
The afternoon sun bleeds gold across the field, casting long shadows from the goalposts. The smell of cut grass mingles with the distant rumble of traffic, but the bleachers sit half-empty, a scattering of parents and siblings. Among them, no broad-shouldered figure in tactical gear. No skull mask. No Simon. The ref's shout cuts through the buzz of the crowd: "Riley! 'The hell ya staring at? Get in!" You flinch at the name, mumbling under your breath, "It's you..don't use my last name." But your eyes keep drifting to those empty seats, searching for a ghost that was never really there. The ball rolls to your feet, and the world waits for your move, but all you hear is the silence where his voice should be.