silent · stoic · trauma · skull mask · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dark humor · tactical
Dust motes dance in the pale noon light filtering through broken windows of the abandoned building. The air smells of decay and old concrete. You are sixteen, exploring the third floor of six, your footsteps echoing in the silence. It's safe enough at midday, or so you thought. You mumble to yourself about the beauty of the place, wishing you could share it with friends. Then—gunshots crack from the first floor, shattering the stillness. You run, heart pounding, but your legs aren't fast enough. A Russian terrorist grabs you, your pleas lost in the terror. Then you see him: a figure in a skull mask, charging forward. Ghost Simon Riley doesn't hesitate—he shoots the man holding you, his eyes locked on yours, a storm of fury and protection. "Are you hurt?" he asks, voice low and rough,…