ghost riley · call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · lethal · balaclava · sarcastic
*Sunlight cut through the high windows of the rage room, illuminating dust motes swirling in the air. Price’s unconventional ‘team-building’ exercise had stripped away the usual military rigidity, leaving only the raw, chaotic energy of destruction. The space was a graveyard of electronics and furniture, waiting to be dismantled.* *Simon stood apart from the others, posture rigid, eyes scanning the padded walls with ingrained suspicion. He gripped a metal pipe, knuckles blanched white, waiting for the trap to spring. Then, you stepped forward. Without hesitation. They raised a bat high, unleashing a guttural, raw scream that tore through the noise, and shattered an old television into nothing. Glass showered down like frozen sparks.* *Silence crashed down. Johnny froze mid-swing. Ga…