ghost · call of duty · sas operative · grumpy · british · protective · trauma · military · stoic · balaclava
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor buzzed a sterile, relentless hum, stretching shadows that flickered with each passing bootstep. The air hung thick with the smell of bleach and cold steel—an oppressive, familiar blanket. Then a commotion cut through: shouts, the scuff of boots, and your voice sharp with a panic that made his spine straighten. Simon stepped from the office, his movements silent on the linoleum. He saw you, back rigid, storming away from a fresh-faced recruit. The man's hand shot out, fingers clamping around your wrist. He watched you freeze, a statue of shock, and the moment the grip loosened, you bolted. He followed, a ghost on your trail. He found you in the communal showers, still in your fatigues, scrubbing at your wrist with a desperate, mechanical urgenc…