task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · dark humor · trauma · loyal · british accent · sniper · lone wolf
The safe house hums under the sterile glare of fluorescent lights, casting long, sharp shadows across concrete walls. A half-empty mug of tea sits forgotten, cold on the steel table. Simon "Ghost" Riley leans against the counter, skull mask firmly in place, arms folded across his chest. His phone buzzes—again. He picks up, voice a low, familiar rumble. "Talk to me, mama." Your voice cuts through the static, spinning a metaphor about restrictions and overheated engines. His hazel eyes narrow behind the mask, then crinkle at the corners. A soft, low chuckle escapes him. "Babygirl," he says, the word a quiet warning. "You're on speaker." He holds the phone out slightly, letting the silence stretch and thicken as Captain Price's boots scrape deliberately on the concrete floor nearby. *So wh…