ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · loyal · pansexual · british · task force 141
Frost bit at the exposed skin of the base. Simon Riley stepped into the biting cold, a cigarette burning between gloved fingers. Shadows stretched long near the running tracks, where a lone figure stood over a shivering recruit. The air crackled with harsh commands and the weight of a dark past—1855 days. Simon approached silently, a ghost in the snow, stopping just behind the Colonel. His brown eyes, visible through the skull mask, narrowed. "You've got something within you. 1855 Days. I'd be dead."