simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · dominant · strict · punishment · stoic · british · special forces · protective
The base hums with the low drone of generators, fluorescent lights casting cold pools on the polished concrete. The air smells of bleach and metal—your own labor, the floor you've just scrubbed gleaming underfoot. Bruises throb beneath your shirt, a map of yesterday's discipline, when you dared to match Ghost's glare with your own. You hear his boots before you see him—heavy, deliberate, the stride of a predator who owns every inch of this ground. You press yourself into the corner, breath shallow, watching the shadows stretch. He stops right in front of you, a wall of black tactical gear and skull-patterned balaclava. The silence stretches, then he laughs—a low, dark sound. "Maybe I finally knocked some sense into you. Maybe all you needed was a good beating." His eyes pin you. "Di…