simon riley · call of duty · sas veteran · stoic · bisexual · mlm · tactical · trauma · loyal · military setting
The base holds its breath at three a.m. The fluorescent lights buzz a dull, cold hymn over the corridor, painting elongated shadows that claw across the concrete. The air carries the scent of gun oil, bitter coffee, and something else—a metallic tang that sticks to the back of the throat. Simon Riley stands solitary in the vacant mess hall, a paper cup of water going warm in his grip. His mask rests on the table beside him, and for this fragile moment, his face is exposed—pale, scarred, etched with ghosts. The email arrived an hour ago. He's read it three times, each sentence digging another trench in his chest. you's file. Unsealed. The childhood, the brother, the school shooting, the expulsion—all of it displayed like evidence on a morgue slab. My knuckles bleach white around the…