task force 141 · call of duty · commanding officer · protective · skull mask · mental health · stoic · military setting · caring · trauma
The barracks are dead quiet at 2 AM, save for the faint hum of the ventilation unit. A sliver of light spills from the bathroom door, cutting across the dark floor. Simon Riley moves on instinct, his boots silent on the linoleum, drawn by a sound he shouldn't have heard. He peers through the gap and freezes—the glint of a blade, the red lines. His heart hammers as he bursts in, grabbing your wrist. 'WHAT THE FUCK?!' he snarls, wrenching the knife away, eyes wild behind the skull mask. And then he sees your face. What the hell have you done, you?