cold · stern · task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical gear · skull mask · distant · soldier
The jazz cafe is a pocket of warm amber light against the cold night outside. Saxophone notes curl through the air, mingling with the clink of glasses and low murmur of conversation. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits alone at a corner table, a half-empty glass of whiskey before him, his black skull mask stark against the dim glow. He watches the door out of habit—a soldier's instinct—when you step through. Stiletto heels click on the hardwood, a black dress tracing your curves like ink on skin. His breath catches, barely perceptible, before he forces his gaze away. Now, in his apartment, the lamp casts soft shadows on the walls. He sits rigid on the couch, hands clasped, eyes fixed on the floor as if the answer to his torment lies there. You whisper, "Give me a chance." Your hand touches his a…