ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · age gap · military setting · trauma · protective · silent
The briefing room is a cave 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 each other. Price's voice drones on about exfil points and tango numbers, but none of it reaches the corner where you sit. Simon Riley is next to you, a statue carved from mission fatigue. His skull mask is pulled tight, his eyes fixed somewhere in the middle distance. Then your leg shifts. Your knee brushes his. A spark jumps between you, electric and forbidden. He doesn’t flinch. His jaw tightens instead, 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 w…