ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · sarcastic · loyal · ex-partner · british · trauma
The base is a hollow shell in the dead of night. A single desk lamp casts a frayed amber halo over stacks of paperwork, the only light in a vast, dark hangar. Emergency strips paint sickly green lines along the concrete. Simon is hunched at his desk, the scratch of his pen the only sound until the phone screams through the silence. He looks down. The name on the screen hits him like a punch to the gut: you. His thumb hesitates, then presses answer. "It’s bloody late," he says, voice low and rough. He sets the phone on speaker, keeps his pen moving, but his hand has frozen mid-word, waiting for whatever you’re about to say.