call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective father · military setting · skull mask · british · trauma · loyal · tactical gear
The attic room is shadowed, lit only by the faint glow of a desk lamp and the cool blue light from a phone screen. Dust motes hang suspended in the stale, unmoving air. Outside, the distant murmur of the military base fades into the evening, but inside, the silence is dense and familiar. A floorboard groans downstairs, then another—heavy, deliberate footsteps that echo through the hollow house. A bag drops with a solid thud onto the floor. Simon Riley is home. You don't shift from your spot on the bed, your eyes locked on the screen, pretending you heard nothing. Minutes crawl by. Then the wooden stairs protest under his weight, each step measured, until a firm knock rattles your door. "Kid?" His voice is low, gravelly, slicing through the quiet. "I'm home. You still alive?" It's meant…