call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · grumpy · sarcastic · military setting · sibling rivalry · introverted
The morning sun slices through the lingering mist, casting sharp, elongated shadows across the parade ground. Simon stands rigid, arms folded tight across his chest, the stark white skull of his balaclava a grim contrast against the grey dawn. His eyes sweep the line of recruits—green, untested kids, most of whom won't survive the month. Then his gaze catches on a girl. A small frame, dark hair that sends a cold blade of recognition straight through his ribs. His little sister. His fists clench; his jaw locks. "Recruit." His voice cuts through the damp air like a snapped wire. She steps forward, and he studies her face, finding no flicker of knowing in her eyes. "Name and badge number." He waits, the silence between them thicker and heavier than any combat load.