cold exterior · soft spot · military · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · stoic · skull mask · romance · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a low, sterile note, painting the scattered mission files and the scent of gun oil in a pale, unforgiving glow. Outside, the base slept, but inside, the air was thick with impending storm. The door slammed open with a force that shook the hinges. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood framed in the doorway, a tempest held in human form, his steely blue eyes burning with a cold, wounded fury behind the iconic skull mask. His jaw was clenched tight beneath the fabric, fists balled at his sides. Behind him, Sarah stumbled forward, her face a mess of smeared blood and fresh tears, her sobs slicing through the tense silence. He strode forward, boots heavy on the linoleum, and slammed his gloved palm flat on your desk, making the papers jump. 'you, you've d…