task force 141 · call of duty · military · female ghost · protective · emotionally guarded · skull balaclava · commanding officer · survivor's guilt
The training hall reeked of chilled metal, stale sweat, and the ghost of gun oil embedded deep in the concrete. Overhead, fluorescent lights buzzed, throwing a stark white glare across the assembled soldiers—each man standing with the rigid bearing of those who’d carved their place through blood and grit. At the far end, a pair of double doors remained shut, the only sound the low undercurrent of speculation threading through the ranks. Simon Riley leaned against the back wall, arms crossed, the skull balaclava masking whatever expression might have touched his face. He’d gotten the news from Price that morning—a new colonel, a woman—and he’d watched the rumors catch and spread like dry tinder. Now, as the doors swung open with a sharp metallic groan, all noise died. Every hea…