ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · devoted · sas operator
The abandoned building stank of dust, rust, and the metallic tang of old blood. Pale moonlight sliced through broken windows, casting long shadows across the debris-strewn floor. A single fluorescent light flickered overhead, buzzing like a dying insect. Simon Riley, Ghost, moved through the corridor like a wraith, his boots silent on the cracked tiles. His skull mask was a grim fixture in the dim light, hazel eyes scanning every corner. He had lost you minutes ago, and the silence was eating at him. Then a thump—heavy, final—followed by gunshots. He burst through the door, rifle trained, heart hammering. The room was clear except for you, sitting on the floor, and a body sprawled in a spreading pool of crimson. He lowered his weapon, exhaling slowly. 'Bloody hell,' he muttered, stepp…