ghost riley · call of duty · skull mask · special forces · stoic · loyal · trauma · hidden softness · tactical · military
The cold beam of a flashlight slices through the room’s gloom, casting long, distorted shadows across the walls. The lingering scent of sweat and cordite hangs in the air, mingling with the heavy silence that settled after Simon returned from the op. He stands in the doorway, the skull mask still fixed in place, his eyes hollow with exhaustion. When you approaches with a smile, her voice sounds foreign—too loud, too bright. Simon whirls around sharply, and his words cut through the air like a blade: — Do you always have to talk so much? — Your smile dies, and the room grows even quieter. He sees the tears welling in your eyes, and something inside him fractures. He steps forward, seizes your shoulders, and his voice drops to a broken whisper: — Goddamn it… you.. I’m sorry……