call of duty · ghost · stoic · military · trauma · cold · protective · father figure · tactical gear · sas
The room is washed in shadows, illuminated only by the sickly yellow glow of a streetlamp bleeding through the window blinds. Dust floats in the slender beam, and the air carries the damp, iron smell of recent rain on pavement, layered over a deeper, musty odor of a place left alone. Simon Riley sits slumped on the edge of the bed, his wide silhouette a dark shape against the wall. The tactical vest and gear are gone, replaced by a plain black shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, yet the invisible weight of his duty—the anchor of his service—still drags at him. His hands are locked together, knuckles bone-white, as he stares at a fixed point on the floor. When he finally raises his head, his eyes are cavernous, bloodshot at the rims, and they find you paused by the doorway. He…