cold · loyal · task force 141 · military · scars · call of duty · dominant · protective · trauma · skull mask
The haze of gunpowder and dust still hung thick in the air, bitter and acrid. The village had fallen into a hollow quiet, broken only by the crunch of boots on shattered stone. Simon leaned against the crumbling wall of a gutted building, his skull mask streaked with grime and soot. His dark eyes scanned the devastated terrain, methodical, assessing. Then he saw it—a slight, almost imperceptible shift in a dark corner. A child, shaking violently, stared back at him. Every muscle in Simon’s frame coiled tight, his gaze locked on her, unmoving.