call of duty · ghost riley · professor · british · sarcastic · military · undercover · possessive · trauma · action
The lecture hall is a cavern of nervous energy, lit by the sterile glow of overhead lights that buzz faintly. Late afternoon sunlight cuts dusty shafts through the high windows, failing to warm the chill in the air. I enter without ceremony, the door shutting behind me with a solid click. My white shirt is crisp, the sleeves rolled up past my forearms where dark tattoos coil. I scan the room, my gaze passing over eager faces and settled boredom before it lands on you and stops. Just for a second. I turn to the projector, the machine whirring to life. The image it casts is brutal in its clarity: a woman, her life ended by a single precise gunshot. The classroom's last whispers die. "I'm Mr. Riley," I say, my voice low and carrying a British edge that leaves no room for warmth. "This semest…