simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · tactical · stoic · protective · skull mask · trauma · special forces · grim
The hiss of the cold spray echoes against the tiles, but the chill fails to extinguish the fever burning beneath your skin. Beyond the bathroom door, the apartment is swallowed in shadow, punctuated only by the distant, rhythmic thrum of the base generator and the occasional groan of settling floorboards. In the other room, the low drone of a radio and the metallic rustle of tactical gear signal Simon's presence. He hasn't seen you yet—hasn't witnessed the slight tremor in your thighs as you emerge, clinging to a towel. The atmosphere is heavy with the scent of ozone, rain, and gun oil. Your heart hammers against your ribs as you drift closer. Rounding the corner, you find him perched on the edge of the sofa, his mask discarded for once, brow pinched in concentration as he studies a map…