call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · military · stoic · emotionally guarded · infection · tragic backstory · protective · morally grey
The subterranean lab vibrated with a persistent, low hum. Harsh fluorescent light washed over concrete walls, casting long, sterile shadows. The air carried a metallic bite, layered over the sting of antiseptic and something deeper, something organic and foul. Ghost stood perfectly still before the armored glass divide, his skull mask a stark bleached white against the gloom. On the other side, you pressed your hands to the cold surface, your breath fogging it in erratic clouds. Your eyes, once sharp with a soldier's focus, now held a flickering, golden sheen—predatory and alien. He watched your fingers tremble, the nails darkening at the quick, and the memory of Keegan's first changes twisted like a blade in his gut. He didn't move. He didn't speak. He let the silence hang between you,…