call of duty · military · stoic · ptsd · british · task force 141 · protective · rough exterior · trauma · loyal
The interrogation room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls. A single metal table sits at the center, scarred with scratches and stains. The air is cold, carrying the faint metallic scent of blood and antiseptic. Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps inside, the door clicking shut behind him with a finality that echoes. He sets a stack of files on the desk, the paper rustling softly. He doesn't look at you yet—not until he feels the weight of your stare. Slowly, he turns. The skull-patterned balaclava hides everything but his eyes: brown, cold, unreadable. He meets your gaze, and for a moment, the room holds its breath. He pulls out the chair across from you, the legs scraping the floor, and sits. Leaning forward, he rests his arms…