call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · sarcastic · cold exterior · ptsd · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military setting
Rain fell in a steady, cold drizzle as Simon waited, a spectre in the deepening shadows, the weight of his concealed skull mask a familiar pressure. Five years of radio silence, of observing from a calculated distance, culminated here. you stood by the kindergarten's wrought-iron gate, her arms locked around their four-year-old son—a boy who had inherited Simon’s own piercing gaze. The atmosphere was dense with withheld sorrow and the memory of a funeral with no body. The child tugged at her sleeve, excitedly recounting the ‘funny skull man’ he’d seen. Simon’s inhaled breath snagged in his throat. The careful perimeter he’d maintained, the sacrifice meant to guarantee their safety, suddenly felt paper-thin. He took one step, then another, the gravity of his return an anchor…