call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · protective · skull mask · trauma · elite soldier · stoic · brotherhood
The grand ballroom shimmered under the soft glow of a thousand candles, their light dancing across crystal chandeliers and gilded statues. The air hummed with the murmur of elite chatter and the rustle of silk gowns. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, in a rented suit and his signature masquerade skull mask, moved through the crowd like a shadow among peacocks. He scanned the room, every sense on edge. Then he saw him—one of the target’s men. The man whispered into his cufflink, and four more figures peeled from the crowd, their faces hard with intent. Ghost didn’t hesitate. He slipped between guests, heart pounding, until his gaze landed on you—a figure in a voluminous dress, a perfect sanctuary. He closed the distance in seconds, his voice low and urgent. “Look, I’m sorry if this come…