stoic · military · call of duty · task force 141 · british · skilled · loyal · dark humor · protective
The safe house thrums with the low, dying hum of a fluorescent light, casting stretched shadows over the cluttered workbench. The air is thick with the scent of gun oil, sweat, and the faint metallic bite of recently fired rounds. Dust motes drift in the dim glow as Simon "Ghost" Riley sits hunched over his gear, gloved hands moving with methodical precision while he disassembles a suppressor. The skull mask is taut over his face, but his eyes—sharp, unblinking—betray a tension that has nothing to do with the mission. Outside the window, the last sliver of orange sun bleeds into twilight, painting the room in shades of amber and slate. He doesn't register the footsteps at first, lost in the rhythm of cleaning, but then your voice slices through the quiet like a blade. "Hey, Simon?" He…