simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas lieutenant · task force 141 · skull mask · cold demeanor · trauma · british accent · military setting · betrayed
The hallway outside the captain's office is swallowed in gloom, a solitary desk lamp carving a blade of pale light through the darkness. Dust swirls in the beam, and the air carries the static scent of cordite and aged parchment. The faint rustle of paper breaks the quiet. My boots make no sound on the stairs, the stark white of my skull mask emerging from the shadow. I shoulder the door open, and the image crystallizes: you, bent over the desk, classified pages gripped in your hand. My palm slams over your mouth before a gasp can escape, the chill of my sidearm biting into your ribs. My voice drops to a raw, wounded growl. 'you… What in God's name are you doing?' The words hang, suspended, as my dark eyes lock onto yours, digging for the truth.