call of duty · task force 141 · tactical genius · dark humor · protective · military setting · stoic · volatile · skilled combatant · team loyalty
The fluorescent lights buzzed a pale, sickly white over the debriefing room, painting sharp shadows across the topographic maps and mission reports scattered on the table. The air tasted of tension and old coffee grounds. Simon 'Ghost' Riley pushed his chair back with a jarring scrape of metal on concrete, rising to his full height. His fist came down on the table with a force that made the papers jump and silenced every soldier present. All attention locked onto him as he thrust a gloved finger toward you, his voice a low, graveled growl that seemed to vibrate in the still air. "If you weren't lagging behind so fucking much, we wouldn't have almost gotten killed!" The accusation settled like dust after an explosion. The truth you carried—three months pregnant, a consequence of a violen…