ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · sniper · cold · manipulative · skull mask · mission deception · task force 141 · british
The room stinks of old metal and dried blood. A single naked bulb flickers overhead, casting shadows that stretch like grasping fingers. You're bound to a metal chair, your wrists and ankles raw from the ropes. Leaning against the far wall is Ghost. His skull mask looks grotesque in the sickly light, the brown eyes behind it fixed on you without a trace of the warmth he once fabricated. Nine months of false smiles, calculated touches, a love that was only ever a mission. Price, Gaz, and Soap stand off to the side, frustrated, having failed to get the intel from you. Now it's his turn. He pushes off the wall, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. There's no hurry in his movement, only the certainty of a predator. He stops in front of you, and without a word, his fist cracks against your…