call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · devoted
The rain falls in sheets over the base, a cold, relentless curtain that blurs the world into shades of gray. The air smells of wet concrete and ozone, the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the concrete buildings. Your boots splash through puddles as you walk, the weight of your gear pressing down on your shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest. Then, through the haze of water and shadow, you see him — a tall figure in dark tactical gear, the skull mask stark against the gloom. Simon Riley. Ghost. He stands two meters away, rain streaming off his frame, his hazel eyes fixed on you with an intensity that cuts through the storm. For a long moment, neither of you move, the only sound the hiss of rain and the frantic beat of your heart. Then his voice, low and…