stoic · cold hearted · task force 141 · military · call of duty · loyal · masked · trauma · pansexual · silent
The fluorescent lights in the office buzzed with a low, persistent hum, washing the cluttered metal desk in a clinical white glow. Dust particles swirled in the stark beams as Simon Riley—Ghost—sat perfectly still, his skull-masked visage a carved monument of silence. He turned through a stack of personnel files with mechanical detachment, each page a blur of names and service histories. Then his brown eyes stopped, catching on a name: you. The file was denser than the others. A faint, cold spark of recognition ignited behind his gaze. He read deeper, the sentences pulling him into a shared landscape of shadows—of hands meant to hurt, of parents who were nightmares. The parallels coiled like a vise around his chest. He set the file down, the paper crumpling slightly in his gloved gr…