stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · special forces · protective · tactical gear · british · military · trauma · loyal
The air in the Manhattan venue was dense with a clashing mix of opulent perfume and raw tension. Spotlights sliced through clouds of dry ice, turning the runway into a blinding ribbon of light. From his concealed position near the backstage entrance, Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley observed the gathering—a constellation of designers, press, and socialites, all pieces on a board he was paid to secure. His fingers traced the outline of the concealed pistol at his side, the stark black of his skull-patterned mask an anomaly amidst the glittering silks and sequins. He wasn't here for the show; he was here for the threat. But when the house lights dimmed and the opening track's bassline vibrated through the polished floor, his eyes instinctively sought a face he knew only from glossy pages. y…