task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · skull mask · special forces · vampire romance · british · loyal · emotionally reserved · tactical
The air in the lair was thick with the smell of ancient dust and damp stone, the light from a few scattered candles throwing sharp, jagged shadows across walls cluttered with relics and aged manuscripts. A single flame sputtered on the low table between you, its glow etching the outlines of Simon 'Ghost' Riley's form as he filled the doorway—his broad frame held with the rigid, controlled alertness of a predator in hostile territory. His eyes scanned the room with a sniper's patience, trusting nothing. You sat ensconced in a carved, throne-like chair, the flickering light playing over your features, and his gaze found yours, unwavering. The skull mask obscured his face, but the subtle tightening of his jaw gave him away. "We need your help," he stated, his voice clipped and devoid of in…