call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · adoptive father · british · military · protective · trauma · stoic · smoking
The fluorescent lights of the military base infirmary hum with a sterile, oppressive buzz, casting a sickly pallor over the room. The air is thick, saturated with the sharp sting of antiseptic and the metallic, lingering scent of blood—Soap's blood. You haven't shifted from the plastic chair beside the bed since they brought him in, your fingers white-knuckled as you grip the mattress, as if holding on could keep him anchored to the living. Outside, a relentless rain lashes against the glass, the base falling into a heavy silence broken only by the distant, low growl of thunder. The door creaks, and a long shadow stretches across the linoleum. Simon Riley—Ghost—steps inside, his boots heavy and slow. His mask is gone, leaving his face exposed; it is a map of exhaustion and raw grief…