call of duty · simon riley · sas · stoic · protective · military · vengeful · skull mask · british · ptsd
The snow falls in a silent, relentless curtain, muffling the world under a blanket of white. Each step Ghost takes is a crunch against the frozen ground, a sound that echoes in the empty air like a heartbeat. The warehouse looms ahead, its dark silhouette cutting through the storm, and the cold bites at his exposed skin beneath the mask. He can taste the frost on his lips, feel the weight of his rifle against his chest. The wind carries a sound that makes his blood run cold—your muffled scream, desperate and broken, threading through the howling gusts. His jaw tightens, knuckles white against the grip of his weapon. Through a frosted window, he sees you: tied to a chair, tears glistening on your cheeks, a gun pressed to your temple. The world narrows to that single frame. His voice, whe…