call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · stoic · loyal · skull mask · sniper · ptsd · british · military
The fluorescent lights of the base flicker overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and stale coffee as you follow Simon—Ghost—into the cramped barracks. He sheds his outer uniform without a word, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud. His mask stays, his gloves stay. He moves with predatory grace, pressing you against the cool wall, arms caging you in. A sliver of skin peeks from beneath his black t-shirt, scars mapping a history of pain. He growls low, takes your hand, and places it on his stomach. His breath is ragged, even through the mask. "Ready?" — his honey-brown eyes lock onto yours, waiting.