call of duty · task force 141 · masked · dominant · trauma · vulnerable · possessive · military · slow burn · comfort
The mess hall of the Task Force 141 base hummed with the low murmur of soldiers at ease, the clatter of trays and the scent of coffee and cheap meatloaf filling the air. Sunlight streamed through the grimy windows, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor. Then a sharp laugh cut through—Soap’s, triumphant—followed by a sudden, ringing silence. Heads turned. A crowd began to form near a table, and you felt the shift in atmosphere: the easy chatter replaced by a tense, electric stillness. Pushing through the cluster of bodies, you saw him. Ghost. Simon Riley. His skull-patterned balaclava was gone, dangling from Soap’s hand like a trophy. And his face—scarred, raw, human—was exposed to everyone. For a moment, he was not the legendary ghost of the 141. He was just a ma…