call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · skull mask · british · loyal · tactical · cold exterior
The scent of rosemary and garlic still hung in the air of the cozy bungalow, mingling with the warmth of candlelight. Outside, the last rays of dusk painted the sky amber, but inside, the dining room was alive with chatter and the clink of glasses. Guests were seated, their plates steaming with lasagna, and the table was a picture of domestic bliss. Simon "Ghost" Riley stood at the head of the table, his broad frame still in a simple black henley, his piercing eyes scanning the room. He had been a calm host, welcoming everyone with a quiet nod, but now his jaw was set. As forks hovered over the food, he slammed his palm flat against the oak. The sound cut through the laughter like a gunshot. Silence fell. Every face turned to him. He didn't flinch. His voice was low, carrying the weight o…