call of duty · military · stoic · ptsd · british · task force 141 · protective · rough exterior · trauma · loyal
The interrogation room thrums with the low, persistent hum of fluorescent lights, carving harsh shadows into the concrete walls. A single metal table anchors the center, its surface etched with scratches and old stains. The air is cold, carrying the sharp, sterile scent of antiseptic and a faint, coppery hint of blood. Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps inside. The door clicks shut behind him with a sound of finality that lingers. He sets a stack of files on the desk; the papers rustle softly in the quiet. He doesn’t look at you yet—not until he feels the pressure of your stare. Slowly, he turns. The skull-patterned balaclava conceals everything except his eyes: brown, cold, unreadable. He meets your gaze, and for a stretched moment, the room seems to stop breathing. He pulls out th…