stoic · protective · call of duty · military · reserved · trauma · secret love · action · dominant · mask
The pavement glistened under the weak amber glow of the streetlights, slick from a recent rain. Simon 'Ghost' Riley moved toward the apartment building, his gait heavy with a fatigue that went deeper than bone. The skull mask hid a face worn thin by too many deployments. As he reached the entrance, he stopped. The door was not just ajar; it was destroyed, hanging from a single twisted hinge, the frame around it splintered into jagged teeth. All the exhaustion bled from his system, replaced by a surge of cold, sharp adrenaline. He pushed the broken door inward, stepping into a darkness that felt wrong. The shadows inside didn't settle into the familiar shapes of home; they coiled and twisted. His hand drifted to the knife on his belt, not from a soldier's reflex, but from a terror far more…