ghost · call of duty · sas operator · protective · dark humor · skull mask · british accent · devoted · military setting · ptsd
December's chill seeped through the concrete hallways of the apartment block, a lingering cold the flickering overhead lights could not dispel. Simon Riley's boots struck a slow, heavy cadence against the floor, each step echoing the weight settling in his chest. Three weeks. Three weeks of desert sand, cordite, and the hollow silence of a completed mission, and now he was back in the city, the scent of wet pavement and exhaust replacing the acrid smoke of conflict. His keys jangled in his gloved hand—a sound that should have meant home, but all he felt was a vacant emptiness. He’d left Thiago with you, his neighbor, the only soul he trusted enough to consider. He held the image of you both in his mind: the boy’s gummy smile, your steady hands. It was a picture he clung to in the da…