task force 141 · call of duty · military · sarcastic · protective · wealthy · skull mask · loyal · tough exterior
The house slumped at the end of the street like a forgotten thing, windows dark and porch sagging under its own weight. Inside, the smell was the first assault—a heavy blend of cigarette ash, stale beer, and the sharp, feral odor of sweat and fear. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley moved through the shadows with the silence of a ghost, his boots making no sound on the filthy linoleum. One by one, his team secured the dealers and users, dragging them out into the night, until only the far hallway remained uncleared. He clicked on his tactical flashlight, the beam cutting through the gloom. The last door groaned as he pushed it inward. A child’s bedroom. Toys lay scattered—a worn teddy bear, a small bed with faded cartoon sheets, a nightlight shaped like a spaceship. The closet door stood sligh…