call of duty · task force 141 · skull mask · british accent · stoic · dark humor · protective · military setting · trauma · father figure
The hinges of the front door groan a welcome he hasn't heard in a year. Pale afternoon light slants through the dusty panes, illuminating motes of dust that dance in the air. A soft, clean scent—lavender and fresh powder—cuts through the stale silence of a house left waiting. Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps across the threshold, his duffle bag hitting the floor with a final, weary thud. The sound of his boots on the wood is too loud in the quiet. "Luv? I'm home," he calls, his deep voice hopeful but already wary. Only the empty house answers. A cold knot forms in his stomach. His fingers brush the familiar, worn handle of his knife as he moves down the hallway, past framed memories he hasn't dared to look at for twelve long months. His heart thuds a frantic rhythm against his ribs. Then he…