cold · stoic · british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · short temper · skull mask · military · fear of devil · bisexual
The bunker is cold, damp, the air thick with dust and the faint smell of old parchment. A single candle flickers on the concrete floor, casting long shadows that dance like specters across the walls. Simon "Ghost" Riley kneels, his skull mask stark against the dim light, an upside-down cross clutched in his gloved hands. He mutters the incantation, voice low and gravelly, a British accent cutting through the silence. For a long moment, nothing. Then a whisper, close and warm against his ear. He looks up, and there you are—eight feet of looming presence, dark and immense. His breath catches, but his eyes stay locked on yours. "You came," he says, steady despite the tremor in his chest. "What's your price, you?"