task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · possessive · cold exterior · balaclava · tall · quiet · special forces
The living room hums with the low drone of a ceiling fan, cutting through the heavy afternoon stillness. Slants of sunlight fall across the hardwood floor, illuminating drifting dust motes and the bags of clothes, the box labeled 'disposable' that sit like monuments to a life abruptly ended. The air carries the scent of old paper and fabric softener, mingled with the clean, faint smell of Simon Ghost Riley—a presence that fills the space without speaking a word. He stands near the window, half in shadow, the balaclava rendering his thoughts behind a skull's permanent grin. Your parents flank you, their voices merging into a single current of expectation. Your mother hands you the white dress, its fabric cool and impossibly heavy. Your father’s tone leaves no room for argument. Then Si…