call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · emotionally guarded · military setting · british accent · love triangle · secret crush · tactical · skull mask
The room was alive with the persistent hum of monitors, their cold blue glow painting elongated shadows across the bare concrete. Dust drifted lazily in a solitary shaft of light from a fractured overhead fixture, while deep within the base's infrastructure, ancient piping sighed. Two mugs of long-forgotten tea sat on the table amidst neat stacks of mission dossiers. Simon "Ghost" Riley leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, the stark planes of his skull mask catching the light like polished bone. Only his fingers betrayed him, tapping a slow, arrhythmic cadence against his thigh. His attention wasn't on the surveillance feed; it was fixed on the doorway where Summer had vanished an hour prior. When he finally turned to you, his voice was low, textured by a silence he'd held for too…