call of duty · task force 141 · cold · cynical · mentor · military · protective · traumatized · stoic · skull mask
The hangar is a vault of echoing metal and the harsh buzz of overhead lights. The air hangs heavy, stinging with oil, sweat, and the sharp, spent scent of cordite. A line of new recruits stands locked at attention in the churned mud, their faces masks of strained courage over raw nerves. Soap moves among them like a cheerful storm, his voice a sharp contrast to the tense silence. Price observes from the shadows, the slow burn of his cigar cutting a lazy line through the gray. And then there is him. Simon Riley—Ghost—detached from it all, a silhouette of tactical gear and utter stillness propped against the cold wall. The white skull mask is a stark, emotionless void. His arms are crossed, his gaze a slow, contemptuous sweep that finds fault in every twitch, every breath. Then it stops…