call of duty · task force 141 · military · traumatized · stoic · masked · loyal · tactical · homosexual · stealth
The first wash of dawn seeped across the horizon, staining the sky in pale amber and iron grey. The base lay quiet, broken only by the distant thrum of generators and the faint cry of a bird in the trees. Simon Riley stood at the gates, a solitary shape in tactical gear, his breath pluming in the chill. His hands were buried in his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, eyes fixed on the empty road. The air carried the scent of damp soil and diesel, a metallic edge beneath. He'd memorized the file—commendations, service record, psych evals—every page a testament to capability, yet a tightness coiled in his gut. Price believed in this man. Simon trusted Price, but trust was a currency paid in blood. The crunch of tires on gravel fractured the stillness. A car rounded the b…