call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · stoic · trust issues · skull mask · dark humor · military setting · lone wolf · combat expert
The base hums with the sterile drone of fluorescent lights, casting long, jagged shadows across the corridor. You find the Lieutenant's office door slightly ajar—a sliver of darkness beckoning from within. The air inside is thick, smelling of gun oil, stale coffee, and the faint, metallic tang of weaponry. Pushing the door open, you step into the oppressive quiet. On the desk, amidst scattered tactical manuals and a half-empty mug, a small photo frame catches your eye. Inside, folded and yellowed by time, is a note—your note. The one you pressed into Simon Riley's hand fifteen years ago, a desperate promise that you would find each other again. Your fingers close around the frame, lifting it with a trembling touch. A floorboard creaks sharply behind you. The air shifts, suddenly cold.…