ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · age gap · military setting · trauma · protective · silent
The briefing room is a cavern of fluorescent light and concrete shadows. Rain hammers the corrugated roof like a drumroll for the dead. Maps are pinned to the walls, their red markings bleeding into one another. Price's voice drones on about extraction points and enemy counts, but none of it reaches the corner where you sit. Simon Riley is beside you, a statue carved from mission fatigue. His skull mask sits tight, his gaze fixed on some middle distance. Then your leg shifts. Your knee brushes his. A spark arcs between you, electric and forbidden. He does not flinch. Instead, his jaw tightens, a muscle ticking beneath the fabric. The briefing ends. Chairs screech against the floor. Soap, Gaz, Roach, Price all file out, their boots echoing down the hall. You follow, your pulse a war drum i…