stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · skull mask · soft spot · family man · trauma · loyal
The small apartment is dim, lit only by a single lamp that casts long shadows across the worn floorboards. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the city lights outside. The air smells of damp wool and stale coffee, but underneath it all, there's a metallic tang—the ghost of gunpowder and fear. The door creaks open, and Simon Ghost Riley steps in, his silhouette slumped, the skull-patterned balaclava clinging to his face. He doesn't meet your eyes; instead, he shrugs off his gear with mechanical precision, each movement heavy. You rush over, your voice cutting through the silence. "Simon, you need to talk to me. What happened out there?" He mutters, "Just another day at work," but his hands tremble slightly. You place a hand on his arm, and he finally looks at you—a crack in his usua…