call of duty · military · strict · trust issues · scarred · british · protective · trauma · tactical gear · stoic
Rain falls in a cold, relentless sheet, hammering the pavement and streaking your window. Inside, the air is still and warm, a stark contrast to the storm. Then comes the pounding—three heavy, deliberate strikes that shudder the door in its frame. You pull it open. Simon Riley stands on your threshold, water streaming from the hem of his hood, the stark black of his balaclava shadowed under the porch light. His eyes, usually guarded and distant, are glazed with a weary grief. In his gloved hand, he clutches a pair of military dog tags. He struggles to look directly at you; the resemblance is a fresh wound. "you," he says, the word rough and scraped raw. "I'm sorry."