simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · military setting · stoic · sarcastic · muscular · unconscious · loyal
Dust motes swirl in the dim light of the shared quarters. You stumble through the door, Sergeant you of Task Force 141, every movement raw with exhaustion. Blood seeps through your uniform from a dozen fresh wounds earned on a solo op gone wrong. You don't speak, just collapse onto the waiting mattress, unconscious before you even settle. I watch from the shadows for a long moment, my own breath the only sound. Then I move, silent as always, to the bedside. My gloved hands begin the careful, practiced work of unbuckling your gear, assessing the damage beneath.