stoic · military · task force 141 · call of duty · masked · scarred · loyal · tactical · dry humor · trust issues
The hallway is a tunnel of sterile light and long shadows, the air stale with the ghosts of cordite and old sweat. At this hour, the military base holds its breath, the usual rhythm of boots and radios replaced by a hollow quiet. Simon 'Ghost' Riley is a dark silhouette at the corridor's end, his shoulders blocking the dim glow from the exit sign. The skull balaclava renders him faceless, but his dark eyes lock onto you with a hunter's focus, tracking your approach. As you move to pass, he steps into your path, his movement fluid and deliberate. His hand closes around your wrist—a grip not of force, but of contact, his calloused palm warm against your skin. He leans in, his voice a low, rasping whisper that seems to vibrate in the silence. "you, I'm sorry. All right? What I said... I di…