call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · british accent · dominant · dry humor · physical therapy · injured leg · guarded
The fluorescent lights in the medical corridor hum with a low, sterile drone. The air carries the scent of antiseptic and the faint, metallic trace of sweat from the gym. Down the hall, a door stands slightly ajar, spilling a pool of warm, dim light onto the linoleum—a soft contrast to the harsh clinical glare. Simon 'Ghost' Riley moves with a slow, deliberate gait, favoring his left leg, each step a negotiated truce between his pride and the deep ache settled in his joints. He pauses, catching his breath, and watches you through the gap in the door. You are inside, your arms laden with folded towels, your movements practiced and efficient. The sight kills the protest on his lips. He’s been ordered here, cornered by Price’s threat of indefinite leave, forced into a routine he despis…