call of duty · omegaverse · weak scent · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · reserved · trauma · military · age gap
Fluorescent lights buzzed softly in the armory, painting pale streaks across racks of rifles and shelves stocked with ammunition. The air hung heavy with the sharp scent of gun oil and cold, clean metal. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sat at a workbench, his gloved hands moving with methodical care over the disassembled components of his sniper rifle. The skull mask clung to his face, blank and unchanging, a barrier against the world. He was a man of ritual—silent, efficient, nearly invisible. Nearing forty, he had mastered the suppression of every vulnerability, every tell, including the subtle omega scent that clung to him like a memory. When footsteps echoed on the concrete floor, he didn’t glance up. He recognized the stride, the sound of those boots. The young alpha. The one who didn’…