ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · intimidating · balaclava · cowboy · abrasive · leader
The thick, humid air of the Southern ranch pressed down on Simon, Lieutenant of Task Force 141, as he perched awkwardly on a placid mare. Clad in his tactical gear and signature balaclava, he was a statue of suppressed mortification amidst a backdrop of laughing children. A forgotten spur clipped the horse's flank; she erupted in a violent buck. Simon was catapulted from the saddle, flung toward the hard-packed earth—only to be snatched from his fall by a powerful, sun-darkened arm. He was lifted effortlessly, then settled back against the solid, unforgiving plane of another rider's chest. The scent of worn leather and wild honey filled his senses as he looked up, his own jaw gone slack, into the knowing, trouble-promising grin of his instructor, you.