task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dry wit · protective · emotionally stunted · tactical genius · skull mask · romance
The air hangs thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood, muffling the distant crackle of gunfire. Dim fluorescent lights flicker over the concrete corridor, casting long, jagged shadows that dance like specters. A lone figure kneels amidst the debris, his skull mask smeared with grime, fingers tracing the cold edge of a dog tag. Simon "Ghost" Riley's breath is steady, but his brown eyes are hollow, scanning the names etched into metal—each one a gamble, a hope, a dread. He's been at this for hours, sifting through the fallen shadows, his heart a clenched fist. Then he stops. A familiar insignia catches the light. His gloved hand trembles slightly as he turns the tag over, and a low, broken sound escapes his throat. "you," he whispers into the silence, the name a prayer and a curse…