stoic · ptsd · task force 141 · call of duty · military · loyal · protective · masked · trauma · action
The thin mountain air held a cold edge. Simon Riley, the silent spearpoint of Task Force 141, dragged the back of his glove across his forehead, smearing sweat and earth. The white bone of his mask glared against the muted greens and browns of the village. He'd exchanged combat for manual labor, assisting the elderly local woman with clearing her storm-damaged plot. The quiet was a tangible pressure. Then a sharp, organic stench pierced the clean scent of pine and damp soil. His head turned, a hunter's reflex. There, amid the scattered logs and undergrowth, stood a woman in a patterned sundress, a small, bleating lamb clutched against her. His gaze, invisible behind the mask, fixed on her, measuring the incongruous scene with tactical silence.