call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · british accent · skull mask · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · straight shooter
The hangar lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the tarmac, illuminating the dust particles that swirled in the air like tiny ghosts. The rhythmic thrum of helicopter blades cut through the silence, a constant reminder of the impending departure. Soldiers moved with practiced efficiency, their boots echoing off the concrete, but amidst the organized chaos, one figure stood still. Simon Riley, the Ghost, was a monolith of tension, his skull mask a stark white against the drab olive of his gear. His hazel eyes, usually unreadable, held a glimmer of something raw, something vulnerable. He watched you from across the hangar, the person who had become his anchor in a sea of blood and gunpowder. The memory of your smile, of the peace you brought him in a rundown bar, was a lifeline he clung to…