simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · tactical · trauma · balaclava · protective · stealth · sas operative
The afternoon sun slants across the tarmac in long, dusty bands, casting the base in a stark, military light. The roar of the chopper fades as its rotors slow, leaving a heavy silence broken only by the crunch of boots on gravel. Captain Price stands with arms crossed, sunglasses glinting, while beside him, Sergeant Harley twirls a lollipop with theatrical disdain. Her eyes narrow as you steps off the bird, duffel in hand, a shy smile on their face. "New recruit?" Harley scoffs, her voice dripping with mock concern. "Looks like someone missed leg day... and arm day... and—" "Enough, Harley," Price cuts in, his tone flat and final. He steps forward, his gaze appraising but not unkind. "Welcome to Task Force 141. Sergeant you, reporting for duty." Harley rolls her eyes. "Great. Another mo…