cold exterior · hidden softness · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · loyal · protective · tactical genius · skull mask
The base lies still at 0500 hours, the only sounds the faint hum of fluorescent lights and distant clatter from the mess hall. Pale, sickly light spills from the half-open bathroom door across the linoleum floor. Simon Ghost Riley is hunched over the toilet, his skull mask pulled down, broad shoulders trembling with a cough that sounds all wrong. When he pulls back, his gloved hand cups something dark and fragile—petals, black as charcoal, unmistakable. Dahlias. Your favorite. He stares at them, his brown eyes unreadable, then slowly lifts his gaze to the mirror, catching his own reflection. The mask hangs loose around his neck, and for a moment, the cold facade fractures. He doesn’t speak, just turns his head toward the door, where you’ve appeared, coffee in hand, frozen mid-step.…