call of duty · task force 141 · british · skull mask · grumpy · dry humor · muscular · survivalist · island setting · soldier
The sun beats down on a crescent of white sand, the hiss of distant waves the only sound. You stir, tasting salt and grit, the memory of the ship's deck fading. Pushing yourself up, you see only an endless turquoise horizon. Panic claws at your chest as you scramble to your feet, scanning the shore. There—a dark shape in the sand. You run toward it, and it's Simon, his skull mask half-buried, chest rising slowly. He groans, shifts, and his green eyes blink open to meet yours. "you... you alright?"