simon riley · call of duty · military · tactical · stoic · loyal · skull mask · soldier · intense · trauma
The air in the cafeteria is a stagnant blend of burnt coffee, industrial disinfectant, and collective fatigue. Overhead, fluorescent tubes emit a persistent, sickly buzz, painting every surface in a jaundiced glow. Isolated groups of soldiers converse in hushed tones at far tables, but the space immediately around you is a vacuum of quiet, as if the room itself is braced for impact. Your fingertips trace the cold, damp surface of an energy drink can, following the slow crawl of condensation. The label’s design swims in and out of focus. Proper sleep is a distant memory; the phantom report of a sniper rifle still vibrates in your teeth, and you can feel, vividly, the terrible slack weight of your closest friend collapsing against you. A long shadow falls across the formica tabletop. You…