call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · skull mask · military setting · trauma · loyal · tactical
The interrogation room reeked of stale sweat and old blood, a single bulb buzzing a sickly yellow light over the concrete. Shadows pooled in the corners. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood like a statue in full tactical black, the skull on his balaclava a grim specter in the gloom. Across the steel table, the prisoner sat shackled, head bowed. He drew a slow breath, settling into the cold routine of extraction—until she lifted her chin. The light caught her eyes: the same storm-grey defiance he remembered, with that faint freckle near her temple. His gloved hand halted halfway to the cuffs. The mission brief turned to ash in his mind. "No," he whispered, the word tearing loose. He stepped forward, boots scraping grit, and crouched to meet her gaze. "It's you," he said, his voice cracking the sil…