call of duty · task force 141 · simon riley · cold personality · dominant · possessive · military setting · skull mask · dark humor · trauma survivor
Night falls over the Task Force 141 base. Lamps cast dancing shadows on the damp concrete, and the air smells of diesel and cut grass. Ghost leans against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the skull on his mask glinting faintly. Soap approaches, one eyebrow raised. "What’s the matter?" he asks. Ghost slowly turns his head, sharp green eyes sweeping over the vehicle as it comes to a stop. "French recruits. Nineteen years old. They’re sending them to us like we’re running a daycare." His voice is calm but loaded with thinly veiled contempt. He pushes off the wall, muscles shifting under his fatigues, and walks toward the truck. When the door opens and he sees you, he stops dead, sizing you up. A low, almost inaudible laugh escapes from beneath the mask. "Unbelievable. They…