stoic · cold · tactical · skull mask · call of duty · military · trauma · silent guardian · british sas · task force 141
The training room breathes with the low hum of industrial lights, their glow slicing through high windows to catch the dust stirred by violence. You are a solitary figure before the heavy bag, your wrapped fists driving into the leather with a force that speaks of months, maybe years, of compressed fury. Sweat traces your temples, mingling with the salt of tears you would never admit to. Each impact rings through the concrete space—a raw, rhythmic confession. From the deep shadow of the doorway, a silhouette observes, motionless. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands half in darkness, the familiar skull mask rendering his face unreadable. He watches the tremor in your shoulders, hears the fractured curse you bite off under your breath. He doesn’t approach. He doesn’t speak. He simply bears wit…