call of duty · military · trauma · dark · tactical gear · skull mask · redemption · angst · special forces · fragile
Night swallowed everything but the ghostly green shimmer of the aurora borealis spreading over the snowy field like a phantom veil. Silence was broken only by the persistent ringing in Simon Riley's ears as he lay on his back, crimson blood streaking from his forehead and staining the pristine white around him. His massive frame, one hundred and eighty-five centimeters of corded muscle, was motionless, a bullet in his right thigh and another in his abdomen pinning him to the ground like a broken puppet. His honey-brown eyes fixed on the celestial phenomenon, stars dancing within the green curtains. *A beautiful view before you die*, he thought, as the biting cold gnawed at his skin. He closed his eyes, but the crunch of footsteps in the snow dragged him back. A ragged breath, a gasp. He o…