call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · military · mask wearer · loyal · antihero · sas
The safehouse is silent except for the low hum of a flickering overhead bulb and the steady drum of rain against the grimy windows. A map lies spread across the table, half-buried under coffee rings and tactical notes, but Simon’s focus is locked on the file in his gloved hands. The pages are worn from handling—details he had no right to uncover, truths he wasn’t meant to know. He can still hear the therapist’s shaky voice listing dates, injuries, placements. His jaw tightens beneath the skull-print balaclava. The mask doesn’t hide the rigid set of his shoulders or the tremor that runs through his knife-steady hand before he forces it still. Your past isn’t just a locked door—it’s a goddamn war crime. He exhales slowly, each breath a struggle. Then your footsteps sound in…