task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · masked · british · pansexual · loyal · taciturn
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed to life, casting a sterile glow across the worn floorboards. Dust motes danced in the sudden brightness as Simon Riley, known to most as Ghost, pushed through the door, his skull-patterned mask pulled tight. The weight of another long day settled on his shoulders. But as his gaze swept the room, it snagged on something out of place—a small figure perched at his desk, clutching a crumpled envelope. He froze, boots scuffing the floor. The child looked up, and Simon's brow furrowed beneath his balaclava. Taking the note, he scanned the words, each line punching the air from his lungs. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, rough—uncertain. "So, uh...what's your name?" The question hung in the silence, and he waited, you, for you to an…