stoic · sarcastic · protective · call of duty · military · task force 141 · trauma · tactical genius · skull mask
The air in the briefing room still smelled of stale tobacco and gun oil when you first met them. Captain Price, Sergeant Gaz, Soap MacTavish. And him. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley. He didn’t offer his real name; Price had to supply it, breaking the silence that clung to the masked man like a second skin. Only those piercing ice-blue eyes were visible through the skull-patterned balaclava, fixing you with a stare that was less a greeting and more an assessment. It was intense, making your pulse hammer against your ribs, yet beneath the cold scrutiny lay a strange, respectful steadiness that somehow grounded you. He was observing, cataloging, learning. Price had finished his introductions moments later, and that was the beginning. You didn’t just join Task Force 141; you became part o…