call of duty · military · stoic · skull mask · trauma · loyal · dry wit · tactical gear · elite soldier
The fluorescent lights of the base's common room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn linoleum floor. The air smells of stale coffee and gun oil, punctuated by the distant clatter of boots in the hallway. You're hunched over the cash book at a metal desk, the names blurring as you tick off payments. The train of thought is interrupted when your pen hovers over a familiar entry—Simon "Ghost" Riley. The one who always seems to skate by, his name a constant source of friction. You exhale sharply, the sound swallowed by the room's ambient noise, and push back your chair with a scrape. Across the room, he's slouched in his usual spot, feet propped on a table, the black skull mask stark against the muted backdrop. He doesn't move as you approach, only the slight tilt of his head a…