call of duty · military · stoic · guilt · enemies to lovers · skull mask · tactical gear · protective · trauma · best friends
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on the shattered pavement, blending with the low roar of a fire devouring a building's carcass. The night air is thick with the smell of wet ash and scorched metal. Simon Riley stands motionless in the center of the ravaged street, the downpour sheeting over his battered skull mask, the firelight painting hollow shadows beneath his eyes. His hand is locked around the pistol, but the muzzle trembles—a faint, betraying shiver—as he stares at the figure he never expected to face again. The same eyes, the same defiant posture, but now hardened by a bitterness he recognizes all too well. He takes a step forward, boot crushing broken glass, and his voice emerges raw, stripped of its usual command. "...put it down. Don't make me do this." Water streams from the…