stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · masked · introverted · lethal · british · ptsd
The downpour hammers the scarred earth, each drop a cold drumbeat on Simon’s armored shoulders as he looms over you, his skull-masked silhouette a statue against the storm. Below, a body lies savaged, its throat ripped open. His voice cuts through the drumming rain, a blade of cold, accented English. ‘What have you done?’ His blue eyes, the sole glimpse of the man beneath the gear, are not impassive—they are windows to a conflict of profound disgust and deeper, more dangerous worry. In the mud and the gloom, what he sees before him has shed the skin of a comrade.