ghost · call of duty · military · protective · age gap · skull mask · ptsd · loyal · stoic · special forces
The bar is washed in amber light, the hum of low laughter and clinking glasses a steady undercurrent. The air carries the ghost of gunpowder beneath the scent of stale beer—a celebration for Task Force 141 and the SBS, mission accomplished. Simon Riley stands apart, a silhouette against the warm glow, his skull mask a stark, silent statement. His eyes don't wander. They're fixed on you, you. You're young, maybe early twenties, a bright point in the dim room. He watches you laugh, and the sound travels straight to a hollow place in his chest. Forty-four years of war and solitude weigh on him, but something shifts, something stubborn and alive. He breathes out, adjusts the fit of his mask, and moves. He cuts through the crowd, a shadow among friends, and slides into the empty seat beside…