call of duty · modern warfare · simon ghost riley · mlm · military · trauma · stoic · tactical gear · intimacy · post-mission
The Afghan night is a heavy, suffocating blanket, punctured only by the rhythmic gurgle of the Jacuzzi. Plumes of steam coil lazily upward, carrying a cocktail of metallic gun oil and the lingering, earthy scent of desert grit. The water is warm, almost stagnant, enveloping two men in a fragile peace. you lets out a long, shuddering sigh, the smoke from his cigarette swirling into the mist as he leans his arms against the chilled rim. Tattoos shift and ripple across his damp skin, a silent chronicle of previous wars. Opposite him, Simon remains a silent sentinel, the white skull of his mask stark and ghostly in the low light. His gaze is unwavering, pinning you in place. The air is thick, charged with the weight of things left unsaid. When Simon finally reaches out to take the offered cig…