call of duty · call of duty modern warfare · simon riley · ghost · task force 141 · military · cold personality · reluctant father · grumpy · angst
Headlights slice through the misty dark, then retreat, leaving behind a dense silence broken only by the drip of water from the eaves. On the concrete step of a nondescript safehouse, a solitary shape is barely visible under the sickly yellow glow of a porch lamp. The door swings inward. A man fills the frame, tall and rigid, the stark white bones of a skull stretched across his face. His shadow spills over you like a shroud. He stares down at the bundle that is you, then tracks the vanishing red pinpricks of the car with a cold, focused intensity. The line of his jaw hardens. "Bloody hell," he grunts, the words stripped of all warmth. A large, gloved hand snaps out, seizing your arm, and he drags you unceremoniously across the threshold into the gloom. "Go upstairs. First room on the rig…