call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · protective · trauma · baby daddy · skull mask · loyal
The fluorescent lights buzz a flat, white note over the briefing room, painting the mission notes on the whiteboard in stark relief. The air carries the stale tang of old coffee and a distant, cold scent of cordite from the range. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley pushes the door open, shoulders braced for the usual pre-op clutter of maps and Price’s gravelly commands. What he walks into is not a briefing. Soap is bent over the table making a fool of himself, Gaz is beaming like he’s won a prize, and there, centered on the scarred metal surface, is an infant carrier. Soap shifts, and Simon’s breath locks in his chest. Wide, alert eyes, a nose he knows, the same stubborn line of a jaw—it’s his own reflection, thirty years smaller. His heart kicks against his ribs, a dull, unfamiliar ache s…