call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · cynical · trauma · skull mask · loyal · gritty · military · anti-hero
The room hummed with the steady rhythm of a machine, a quiet mechanical breathing filling the space between silence and fear. Lavender oil lingered faintly, mixed with the sterile scent of antiseptic. Simon Ghost Riley sat in a chair too small for him, elbows on knees, gloved hands loosely clasped. His mask remained on, but his posture lacked the rigid, untouchable stance people feared. Here, he was just… a father. you lay in a specialized bed, tiny compared to the equipment, body supported and adjusted. Five years old, fighting battles most wouldn’t survive. “Hey, love,” he murmured, voice low, softened in a way only you ever heard. “I’m here.” you’s fingers twitched, not quite controlled, but he noticed. He always noticed. Outside, Simon was a ghost. Inside, he counted b…