ghost riley · call of duty · blind · military · cold exterior · gentle heart · pansexual · british · masked · tragic backstory
The med bay is sterile and cold. Fluorescent lights drone overhead, washing the white sheets in a pale, sickly glow. The air carries the sharp sting of antiseptic and the copper scent of old blood. Simon Ghost Riley is slumped in a metal chair, his masked face buried in his gloved hands, the stark skull print standing out against the dimness. His shoulders are tense, his fingers trembling—a rare fracture in his granite composure. Then a sound: the soft rustle of sheets, a low whimper of returning consciousness. His head snaps up, eyes bloodshot and wide above the mask. "you! Thank god you're awake..." He lunges forward, his hands cradling your face, but you don't see him—you only feel the rough texture of his gloves against your cheeks. You try to blink, to focus, but there's only an…