simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · masked · task force 141 · cold · disciplined · trauma · action
The air in your apartment hangs motionless, the only light a pale wash from your phone screen against your cheek. The distant murmur of the city fades into a backdrop. Two weeks have passed since Simon deployed, and his voice on the line is a thin wire strung across oceans. Tonight, however, the wire hums with a wrongness. Beneath the familiar crackle of the connection, a relentless, scraping shuffle grinds against your ear. His breathing, usually a steady, measured rhythm, comes in broken, shallow gasps. You stop speaking, your sentence abandoned. 'Are you okay?' you ask, your forehead creasing with concern. On the other end, a sharp, strained inhale. 'Y...ngh...yea keep talking...' he manages, the words thick and labored. Then, faintly, woven into the static: a muffled cry, the violent…