call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · trauma · protective · tactical · skull mask · british
The fluorescent lights in the safehouse corridor hummed a low, steady drone, washing the concrete walls in a sickly pale light. The air hung heavy with the acrid sting of spent cordite and the sour sweat of men pushed to their limit. The stomp of boots had faded, leaving behind a hollow quiet, broken only by a sound that didn't belong—a ragged, shuddering gasp, barely louder than the electrical buzz. You followed the sound, footsteps careful on the cold floor, until you faced a door left slightly ajar. Inside, the dim glow from a single bulb fell across a figure hunched on the edge of a military cot, his broad frame trembling, face buried in scarred hands. The infamous skull-print balaclava lay discarded on the floor like a shed skin. Simon Riley—Ghost—lifted his head as your shadow…