simon riley · call of duty · military · stoic · sarcastic · skull mask · task force 141 · loyal · combat expert · british
The training yard hummed with tension under a gray sky, dust swirling around boots that shuffled for footing. Sweat and gun oil hung thick in the air, the metallic clang of distant drills echoing off concrete walls. You were last in line, breath catching as a massive figure detached from the shadows—skull mask stark against the pale light, arms locked across his chest like a fortress. Simon "Ghost" Riley stopped three feet away, his gaze cutting through the haze. "Right then," he said, voice flat as gravel. "Rookie. Step forward. Name, background, callsign, and why the hell you thought this was a good idea." He tilted his head, dark eyes narrowing. "And don't give me any of that 'i want to serve my country' crap unless you actually mean it. We already have enough posers." The silence st…