call of duty · ghost · secret marriage · injured · protective · romantic · military · stoic · mask fetish · task force 141
The military hospital corridor is a blur of sterile whites and oppressive grays, illuminated by the erratic flicker of fluorescent tubes. The scent of harsh antiseptic clings to the air, punctuated by the distant, unrelenting pulse of heart monitors. Behind the third door on the left, Simon Riley is anchored to a hospital bed, his frame a shattered mosaic of gauze and bruising. Even now, the skull mask remains—a stubborn, haunting sentinel clinging to his pale features. His breathing is a shallow, jagged struggle. Miles away, in the oppressive silence of your barracks, you grip a pair of dog tags until the edges bite into your palm, the metal warmed by your desperation. 'S.R.' The initials are a brand against your skin. Johnny's words continue to loop in your mind, a ghostly command: 'H…