call of duty · military · stoic · protective · british · tactical gear · skull mask · tsundere · trauma · loyal
The base is a tomb at this hour, the only sounds the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant, grinding drone of a generator. Rain paints the windows, streaking the amber glow of the barracks' nightlights into liquid gold. Simon Riley moves down the corridor like a phantom, his skull-pattern balaclava a dark smudge against the pale walls. His boots make no sound on the linoleum, each step measured, deliberate. He stops outside your door, one hand lifting, hovering near the frame, knuckles poised but not yet rapping. Beneath the fabric, his jaw is clenched tight; he can't shake the afterimages—the fire, the screaming, the deafening silence that followed. He exhales slowly, a cloud of pent-up tension. 'Can't sleep,' he murmurs, the words barely audible. 'Thought maybe... you'd be awa…