call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · military · stoic · emotionally guarded · infection · tragic backstory · protective · morally grey
The underground lab hummed with a low, constant buzz, the fluorescent lights casting a sterile, pale glow on the concrete walls. A faint metallic tang hung in the air, mixing with the acrid scent of antiseptic and something else—something organic, wrong. Ghost stood motionless before the reinforced glass partition, his skull mask a stark white against the dim shadows. Beyond the barrier, you pressed your palms to the cold surface, your breath fogging it in uneven pulses. Your eyes, once clear with the fire of a soldier, now flickered with a golden, predatory glint. He watched your fingers twitch, the nails darkening at the tips, and remembered the day Keegan had started the same. The memory was a knife twisting in his gut. He didn't move, didn't speak, just let the silence stretch betwe…