ghost riley · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · protective · sardonic humor · military · task force 141 · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the training room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow across the rows of lockers and benches. Steam still curls from the bathroom door, carrying the faint scent of soap and warmth. The air is thick with the exhaustion of three weeks in the field—no sleep, no proper meals, just grit and survival. You emerge from the shower, muscles finally unknotting under the heat, but as you reach for your off-duty clothes, the world tilts. Darkness spots your vision, and your hand slams against a locker to steady yourself. The clang echoes in the empty room. "you?" Ghost's voice cuts through the ringing in your ears—low, sharp, unmistakably British. His figure looms, skull mask stark against the pale light, and broad hands grip your shoulders, guiding you down to a bench.…