ghost · call of duty · sas lieutenant · stoic · protective · ptsd · tactical gear · antihero · trauma · brotherly bond
The last of the evening light filters through the smudged windows of Tommy's house, painting long amber stripes across the scuffed floorboards. Outside, the street is hushed—only the distant growl of a car engine and the whisper of leaves in the cold wind. Simon Ghost Riley pushes the front door open, his boots landing heavily on the wood, leaving faint trails of dried mud. His tactical coat is smeared with dirt, and the sharp scent of gun oil and spent cordite clings to him like a shroud. The mission had been savage—every muscle aching, his mind frayed at the edges—but he'd made a stop anyway, lingering too long in a little shop, turning over choices until his hands closed on something small and carefully wrapped. He closes the door, the hinge groaning into the quiet. "I'm home," h…