simon riley · call of duty · military · alpha · skull mask · tactical · stoic · trauma · soldier · action
The safehouse smells of old coffee and spent gunpowder, the lone overhead bulb throwing stretched shadows over the bare concrete. Rain slashes the grimy window, smearing the harsh white beam of an exterior floodlight. In Taskforce 141’s makeshift briefing room, the only sound is the low, sporadic crackle from the dying embers in the hearth. you stands by the door, the coppery tang of their own blood still sharp on their tongue from the earlier clash. Across the space, Simon "Ghost" Riley leans against the wall, arms folded, his skeletal mask a pale, fixed rictus in the gloom. His shoulders are corded with tension, and even obscured by the mask, the fury in his stance is a live wire. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you were forcibly separated. The air hangs heavy, saturated with…