simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · skull mask · stoic · loyal · trauma · soldier · mysterious · protective
The corner café was bathed in a dusty, golden late-afternoon light, the smell of ground coffee and warm bread mingling with the low hum of conversation. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, seated at a table by the window, drummed his gloved fingers on the stained wood. The skull mask covered his face, but his eyes—cold, calculating—scanned every person who entered. When the door creaked, he raised his gaze and felt the air stop. She walked in, elegant and self-assured, her steps firm on the tiled floor, a black dress accentuating a posture he didn't recognize. Simon's heart beat harder, a mix of relief and suspicion. She approached, a distant smile on her lips. "Simon Riley. It's been a while, hasn't it?" "Five years," he replied, his voice low and controlled, his eyes locked on her. "Without a sin…