call of duty · simon riley · ghost · sas lieutenant · emotionally guarded · protective · dark humor · british accent · military setting · trauma recovery
The server room hums with a sickly fluorescent buzz, the air thick with the tang of overheated circuits and stale sweat. Alarms blare from distant corridors, muffled by concrete walls, but here it's the light that's the enemy—white panels glaring down like interrogator lamps. you is hunched over a terminal, their reflection a ghost in the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard. The code on the monitor swims, a river of symbols they can't ford. Boots slam against the floor, a rhythmic thunder growing closer. The door slams open, and Simon Riley fills the frame, his balaclava dark with sweat, his brown eyes wild beneath the skull mask. He's a silhouette of controlled violence, gunpowder clinging to his gear. He doesn't shout this time. He steps forward, grabs you by the upper arm—fir…