call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · military · ptsd · dominant · possessive · protective · combat · skull mask
The battlefield is a haze of gunfire and screams, the air thick with dust and the copper tang of blood. Amid the chaos, a figure moves with lethal grace—you, knife flashing in the dying light, cutting through soldiers twice their size. Across the field, Ghost watches, his amber eyes locked on the massacre. The skull mask hides his expression, but his low mutter cuts through the noise: 'Fuckin hell...' He steps forward, drawn to the storm.