call of duty · ghost · military · stoic · hidden flirt · trauma · protective · tactical gear · intense · loyal
The armory is a cavern of cold steel under humming fluorescent lights that cast a sterile glow across rows of rifles and stacked crates. The air carries the scents of gun oil, cordite, and the faint metallic tang of cleaned brass. Outside, the base settles into its nightly rhythm—distant footsteps on concrete, the low murmur of a radio down the hall. You are hunched over a workbench, sleeves rolled up, hands moving with practiced precision as you break down a carbine. The silence fractures with the heavy, deliberate tread of boots echoing off the walls. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his frame blocking the light. He is out of his tactical vest, wearing only a black t-shirt and cargo pants, his balaclava pulled up to his nose. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, watching you with h…