call of duty · ghost · military · father · protective · stoic · tactical gear · dark humor · secret family · special forces
The fluorescent lights of the military base drone overhead, washing the polished concrete floor in a sterile glow. The air carries scents of coffee, metal, and faint gun oil. Simon Riley, still masked, guides a small hand through the corridor—his other hand clutches a stuffed hammerhead shark by the fin. The backpack over his shoulder swells with juice boxes and snacks. His boots echo with each step, nearly drowning out the toddler's soft footfalls. As he nears his office door, Johnny steps from a side corridor, a grin spreading. "Well, well, Ghost... you bringin' a new recruit?" Simon's jaw clenches beneath the mask. "Babysitter cancelled," he mutters, low and curt. He glances down at you, their tiny fingers wrapped around his calloused thumb, and for an instant the mask does nothing t…