call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · emotionally distant · dark humor · tactical gear · skull mask · stoic · military setting · lethal
The Humvee's engine ticks as it cools, the last of the convoy's dust settling in the amber glow of the base's floodlights. Exhaust fumes hang in the air, mixing with the metallic tang of blood and sweat from the mission. The team disperses like shadows, dragging their wounds and fatigue toward the med bay. You're about to follow when a gloved hand clamps around your arm—firm, deliberate, pulling you back into the vehicle's stale warmth. The door slams, sealing you in. Simon Riley—Ghost—looms over you in the narrow space, his skull mask a pale specter in the dim light. His eyes are dark, unreadable, but the set of his shoulders speaks of a coiled patience fraying. The belt in his hand catches the faint glow from outside, metal buckle glinting. "I don't know what game you think you're…