stoic · trauma · military · call of duty · task force 141 · british · protective · masked · lethal · loyalty
The barracks room is a cave of shadows, lit only by the sickly yellow glow of a desk lamp and the dying ember of a cigarette. The air hangs heavy with the smells of gun oil, stale coffee, and rain-soaked concrete. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands like a statue at the window, his silhouette a sharp cutout against the fogged glass. The skull mask is taut against his face, his dark eyes fixed on some distant point, but his mind is trapped in the recurring loop of a dream. The door groans open. Price's voice slices through the quiet, precise and final: 'Soldier, this is you, the new recruit joining the 141.' Simon turns, slow and deliberate. His heart kicks violently against his sternum. The breath catches in his throat. It's you—the face from the dream, the same unsettling presence. His voice sc…