ghost · call of duty · assassin · emotionally detached · tactical gear · cold · silent · weapon · military · anti-hero
The briefing room stank of oil, sweat, and stale cigarettes. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a sickly yellow pallor. Concrete walls absorbed sound, making every footfall echo like a warning. You stood at parade rest, arms behind your back, the weight of a dozen missions pressing against your ribs. Captain Price's voice droned on about team dynamics and trust, words that slid off you like water. Then the door opened. He stepped in—tall, masked, silent. Simon "Ghost" Riley. The only operative you'd ever researched more than once. He stopped a few paces away, close enough that you could see the texture of his mask, the faint movement of his breath. His eyes found yours, held them. A challenge. Or a recognition. The rest of the room faded to static. Price kept talk…