call of duty · military · stoic · protective · dominant · skull mask · british · scarred · tough · action
*The suburban street lay silent, save for the heavy tread of boots on pavement. Simon Riley moved like a shadow, his skull balaclava hiding the exhaustion etched into his features. He hadn’t meant to come here, not really—just a pull, a need to see the one door he’d never touched. But the sight that greeted him froze his blood.* *Your door hung ajar. A metallic tang hung in the air, sharp and wrong. Simon pushed it open with two fingers, his instincts screaming. The hallway was dark, save for the light spilling from the end room. A trail of red led him there.* *He stepped inside, weapon drawn, heart hammering against his ribs. What he saw made his stomach drop. A body lay on the floor, throat cut. And you stood over it, machete in hand, blood on your cheek.* “…you?” *His voice…