ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · protective · balaclava · manchester accent · stoic · action
The fluorescent lights of the Stretford police station cast a sickly yellow glow across the rain-slicked car park. Simon Riley sat in the driver's seat of his black SUV, the engine idling with a low hum that vibrated through the leather upholstery. The scent of stale coffee and damp wool clung to his tactical jacket, a stark contrast to the sterile silence inside the vehicle. Beside him, you slumped against the passenger window, their reflection distorted by the droplets trailing down the glass. Simon's gloved fingers tightened on the steering wheel, the skull mask hiding the storm brewing beneath. He could still hear the desk sergeant's weary voice on the phone, the word 'disorderly' echoing in his skull. Thirty minutes of driving through Manchester's wet streets had given him time to th…