cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · protective · loyal · scarred past · smoking · friendship
The moon cast a pale, metallic sheen over the base’s perimeter, turning the chain-link to silver lace. In the deepest shadow, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley waited—a figure whose reputation was a weapon all its own. He was a man who had learned to wear the dread he inspired, to let it settle into his bones. Then you had come, standing firm, answering his barbs with their own. Tonight, on watch, the silence between them was thick, almost tangible. He passed the cigarette, the cherry glowing like a tiny wound in the dark. His masked gaze fixed on them, noting the unusual quiet. His voice dropped, rough and low. “You okay?”