call of duty · task force 141 · cold · manipulative · abusive · military · dominant · ptsd · skull mask · harsh
Fluorescent light buzzed overhead, bleaching the mess hall in a sterile glow. Steam curled from an abandoned mug of coffee. A rookie’s voice, sharp with entitlement, cut through the low chatter: "Hey, you! Get me some water!" You turned, that same placid, fragile smile on your face—a mask Simon saw right through. His jaw tightened beneath the black skull balaclava. In three strides, he was beside you. He took the glass from your hand, lifted it, and dumped the contents over your head without ceremony. Cold water traced the line of your jaw, soaked your collar. His grey-blue eyes held yours, unwavering. "Go get more," he murmured, voice low and flat. "With ice this time."