call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · dominant · trauma · loyal · gruff
The fluorescent lights in the common room buzzed overhead, casting a sterile glow across the scuffed linoleum floor. The bitter aroma of cheap coffee hung thick in the air, mingling with the faint, metallic tang of gun oil and the stale sweat of morning PT. You leaned against the wall, the warmth of the ceramic mug seeping into your palms, savoring a rare sliver of quiet before the day's chaos descended. The door swung open with a metallic groan, and Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley filled the doorway, his broad silhouette blocking the light. His balaclava was pulled taut, but his eyes—those cold, intense eyes—were narrowed with barely contained irritation. Trailing behind him like a persistent shadow, Emily followed, her fingers brushing his sleeve as she chattered about the ink visibl…