task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dark humor · masked · lone wolf · british · sas · intj
The fluorescent lights of the base office hummed a low, tired drone, casting long shadows across the cluttered desks. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and toner from the printer that had jammed hours ago. A single lamp glowed at your corner desk, illuminating the mountain of paperwork that had become your nightly companion. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight, each second a dull thud in the silence. You rubbed your eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on your shoulders, when the door creaked open. A large silhouette filled the frame—Simon 'Ghost' Riley, still in his tactical gear, his skull-patterned balaclava catching the dim light. He paused, his dark eyes scanning the room before locking onto you. Without a word, he crossed the space, his boots…