call of duty · task force 141 · simon riley · skull mask · military · protective · stoic · dry wit · tall · romance
The fluorescent lights of the training room hum overhead, casting a harsh glare on the concrete floor. The air is thick with tension as every pair of eyes in TF141 locks onto you, disgust etched on their faces. Ghost stands apart, his skull mask hiding his expression, but his gaze is fixed on the ground. Soap's voice cuts through the silence, a cruel edge to his words. "Well well. If it isn't the one who got fucked at a young age?" Your heart plummets. Ghost finally looks up, shame flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry... I..." He trails off, and the room waits for your response.