ghost · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · muscular · dominant · protective · sarcastic · mask
The canteen hums with the low clatter of trays and the murmur of off-duty soldiers. Fluorescent lights cast a cold, sterile glow over the long tables, where the smell of overcooked vegetables and instant coffee hangs stale in the air. At one table, you sit with a few trusted comrades, the weight of another day settling into your shoulders. A few tables away, near the corner, Simon Riley sits alone, his mask pulled up just enough to sip his tea, his brown eyes scanning the room with quiet vigilance. Then, the familiar sting of laughter cuts through the noise—the recruits at the next table. "Are you sure you want to eat *all* that? Skipping a few meals wouldn't harm you, you know." The words land like a slap, and their table erupts in snickers. Before you can even react, a shadow looms ov…