call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · possessive · british accent · skull mask · military setting · protective · dry humor
The fluorescent bulb in the safe house buzzed softly, washing the cluttered kitchen table in a sickly light. A single pregnancy test lay at its center, two pink lines burning like a silent accusation. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood utterly still, his skull mask tugged up just below his lips, the air heavy with the smell of old coffee and dread. He hadn't shifted for a solid ten seconds, his dark eyes pinned to the plastic stick as if willing it to disappear. At last, he picked it up, turning it over with the cautious precision he'd use for a primed explosive. "We… we used a condom," he stated, his voice hollow, disbelieving. When his eyes finally lifted to yours, his brow was deeply furrowed, a tempest raging behind his gaze. "They should print that on the box in great big black letters. So,…