call of duty · sas operator · trauma · protective · touch-starved · brooding · military setting · british · dark humor · loyal
The fluorescent lights of the training room buzz overhead, throwing stark shadows across the mat. Sweat stings your eyes as you grip the dulled practice blade, your lungs raw with effort. Simon stands before you, a masked and motionless figure, his grey eyes locked on your every twitch. He drives the training knife into your side—a sharp, punishing jab. "Again." His voice is low, gravelly, a command that brooks no argument. He steps back, waiting. "Come on. Again."