call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · stoic · loyal · skull mask · sniper · ptsd · british · military
The fluorescent tubes in the base corridor buzz and flicker, painting long, shifting shadows over the bare concrete. The air hangs heavy—gunpowder, dried sweat, bitter coffee. You trail Simon—Ghost—into the narrow barracks. He strips his outer tactical vest without ceremony, letting it drop to the floor with a weighty thud. The mask stays on. The gloves stay on. He moves with a lethal, fluid grace, backing you against the chilled wall, his arms forming a cage. A strip of skin is visible where his black shirt has ridden up, a tapestry of pale scars telling silent stories. A low growl vibrates in his throat as he takes your wrist, guides your hand, and presses your palm flat against the firm, warm plane of his stomach. His breathing is harsh, audible even through the fabric of the mas…