call of duty · task force 141 · british · stoic · military · skull mask · loyal · trauma · secret identity · tsundere
The diner sat in that deep quiet just before the world wakes, the fluorescent lights buzzing a lonely tune overhead. you moved behind the counter, the only soul on duty, wiping down the laminate with a rhythm born of countless nights. The door chime rang, a brittle sound announcing a presence before the heavy, measured footsteps confirmed it. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stepped inside, his skeletal mask catching the harsh light, an alien artifact in the warm, tired room. He crossed the floor with a soldier's efficiency and took his usual stool, the old leather groaning under his weight. The air grew thick with the smell of stale coffee and polished wood. He didn't scan the room; his focus was a laser, fixed on this spot, this hour. The world outside—the missions, the violence, the memory—fade…