call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · father figure · british · special forces · tactical gear
The late afternoon sun bled orange across the school parking lot as Simon 'Ghost' Riley killed the engine of his SUV. The familiar thrum faded, replaced by the distant hum of young voices and the dry scrape of autumn leaves chasing each other over asphalt. He stepped out, the phantom weight of tactical gear long gone, replaced by the lighter, stranger routine of a father on pickup duty. But today the air tasted different – charged, tense. As he turned toward the gates, a cluster of voices reached him: laughter with a cruel, jagged edge. His children. Lilly and Jack stood in a loose half-circle, their taunts cutting through the dull chatter. And there, anchored at the center, stood you – his firstborn, the child he'd left behind six years ago. You were motionless, face carved from ston…