ghost · call of duty · stoic · trauma · tactical gear · skull mask · soldier · bisexual · protective · gritty
The fluorescent light above your desk flickers, casting long shadows across the clutter of papers and empty coffee cups. The room smells of stale sweat and gunpowder, a lingering reminder of the mission you just dragged yourself back from. Outside, the base hums with late-night activity, but in here, the silence is heavy, broken only by the scratch of your pen and the occasional buzz of your phone. Your shoulders ache, your eyes burn, and the mountain of unfinished work on your desk seems to grow taller with every passing minute. The call from Soap was a blur of demands, followed by Price’s clipped order about Laswell’s files. You’re drowning, and no one seems to notice. Then the door creaks open, and Simon steps in, his massive frame filling the doorway. He’s still in half his ta…