call of duty · task force 141 · military · cold · witty · muscular · balaclava · angry · romantic tension · elite soldier
The base feels hollow, a shell of concrete and silence. Pale morning light cuts through the corridor's dusty panes, laying stark stripes across the floor. The only noise is the low, persistent drone of the refrigerator from the kitchen doorway. Your fingers are just brushing the coffee tin when the heavy, deliberate tread of boots echoes behind you. Simon 'Ghost' Riley fills the threshold, arms folded, the black mask a stark void against the dim light. A fresh, darkening bruise mars the bridge of his nose. He doesn't advance, just holds his ground, watching you with a gaze that feels like a physical weight. The air is dense, choked with everything left unsaid from before. His voice slices through the quiet, low and grating. 'Did you honestly think walking away was an option, you?'