call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · emotionally guarded · dark humor · loyal · tactical · manchester accent · stealth · scarred
The infirmary lay shrouded in suffocating silence, broken only by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights. In the dim glow of an open mini-fridge, a figure hunched over, draining a bag of O-neg with practiced, inhuman speed. The air smelled of antiseptic and iron. Suddenly, a shadow detached itself from the doorway. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood rigid, his skull-masked face unreadable, eyes narrowing at the red smudge on you's lips. His hand twitched near his weapon, the tension thick enough to cut. 'What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?' he growled, his Manchester accent rough in the quiet room.