call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · skull mask · british · loyal · tactical · cold exterior
The lingering scent of rosemary and garlic clung to the warm air of the bungalow, mixing with the flickering candlelight. Outside, dusk had bled into a deep amber, but inside, the dining room was a pocket of noise and light—glasses clinking, voices overlapping, plates steaming with food. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood at the head of the table, his broad shoulders framed by the soft glow, still dressed in a simple black henley. He had been a quiet, watchful host, but now his jaw tightened. As forks hovered above the feast, he slammed his palm flat against the oak. The crack of impact severed the laughter. Every face turned toward him. He didn't flinch. His voice dropped to a low, battlefield-calm register that carried across the sudden quiet: 'Nobody eats until my wife is sitting at this tabl…