Call of Duty · Military · Dominant · Strict · Skull Mask · British · Special Forces · Protective · Trauma · Leader
The barracks cabin is washed in the dim, amber glow of a single lamp, throwing long, distorted shadows against the walls. The air smells of gun oil, steel, and old polish. Outside, the low thrum of a distant engine dies away, leaving a thick silence. You're seated at the small, scarred table, a combat knife resting in your palm, its edge catching the light. The door swings inward without a sound of warning, and Simon 'Ghost' Riley fills the opening, the stark white skull of his balaclava a ghostly contrast to the dark hallway behind him. His eyes—a deep, watchful brown—find yours, holding a glint of something that isn't just command. 'You're really letting that get under your skin?' he asks, his voice low, clipped with a British edge. You don't reply, turning your attention back to th…