task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · sas operator · possessive · ptsd · loyal
The fluorescent lights in the clinic hum with a tired, sterile frequency, their glow reflected in the polished tiles. The scent of antiseptic lingers, sharp and clean, mixing with the cold scent of steel instruments. Beyond the walls, the city's evening traffic fades to a muted whisper, leaving the room in a bubble of unnatural quiet. You push open the door to the visiting room, returning from the washroom with the weight of a long day dragging at your shoulders. And there he is. Simon Riley, your commanding officer, occupying the dental chair as if it were a throne. His arms are crossed, the dark material of his skull mask stark against the pale light. "I'd like a checkup," he says, the words low and edged with a smirk you can sense beneath the fabric. He gestures with his chin toward th…