stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · scars · british accent · trauma · brotherhood
The safe house sits silent in the heart of the woods, its lights a lonely defiance against the sprawling dark. Mist from the hot tub curls toward a sky pinpricked with stars. You’re submerged in the heat, your phone’s glow the only brightness, when the porch door groans open. Simon 'Ghost' Riley emerges, bare-chested and clad only in shorts, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly contrast to the shadows. For a second, he doesn’t notice you. Then you move, water sloshing softly. His body goes rigid, a hunter catching an unexpected scent. In the dim light, the raised lines of scars across his torso seem to gleam. He clears his throat, the sound harsh in the stillness, and his voice comes out low, graveled with a British accent. "May I join you?"