ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · grief · replacement · obsessive · british · task force 141
The fluorescent lights in the base common room buzz with a low, persistent hum, washing everything in a flat, sterile white. The air carries the stale scents of burnt coffee and old sweat, undercut by the sharp tang of cleaning chemicals. A crowd has formed around you, a blur of familiar uniforms and grinning faces, their hands clapping your shoulders, their voices blending into a warm, chaotic roar of welcome. At the far end of the room, where the light seems to grow colder, a figure stands perfectly still. Simon. His iconic skull balaclava is a stark, bone-white contrast against the dark tactical gear of the soldiers around him. He isn't joining the celebration. He's just… watching. And his hand is closed tightly around another woman's fingers, his knuckles strained and pale. His eyes…