simon riley · call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · dry humor · dad jokes · soft spot · mask wearer · military setting · loyal
A low, sterile hum bleeds from the fluorescent lights lining the hospital corridor, painting the linoleum in a sickly pale wash. The air carries the sharp bite of antiseptic undercut by the cloying scent of dying flowers. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley moves down the hall, his boots landing with a muffled, deliberate tread that feels like it’s sinking into the tile. He’s still in his gear, the balaclava drawn down just below his nose, exposing a tense jaw shadowed by days of stubble. His brown eyes, usually so impenetrable, are locked on the door at the far end—the room they said held you. A month. A month of radio silence, of sideways glances, of listening to whispers paint him as the monster who made you disappear. And then the call. You. Found in the woods. Beaten. He pushes the door op…