call of duty · ghost · military · father · protective · stoic · tactical gear · dark humor · secret family · special forces
The fluorescent lights of the military base hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished concrete floor. The air smells of coffee, metal, and faint gun oil. Simon Riley, still in his skull mask, leads a tiny hand through the corridor—his other hand grips a stuffed hammerhead shark plush by the fin. The backpack slung over his shoulder bulges with juice boxes and snacks. His boots echo with each step, but the toddler's soft padding is almost lost. He's about to turn into his office when Johnny emerges from a side corridor, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, Ghost... you bringin' a recruit today?" Simon's jaw tightens under the mask. "Babysitter cancelled," he mutters, low and clipped. He glances down at you, their small fingers wrapped around his calloused thumb, and…