call of duty · simon riley · stoic · trauma · military · loyal · british · skull mask · tsf 141 · cold
The safehouse is a ruin of smoke and shadows. Dust hangs in the air, thick as fog, and the only light comes from the flickering flame of a overturned lamp. The metallic scent of blood mixes with gunpowder, heavy and cloying. In the corner, slumped against a crumbling wall, is Ghost. His skull mask is pulled down, revealing pale skin and a jaw tight with strain. His arms are wrapped around you, holding you against his chest, and his hands are slick with crimson. The usual cold distance in his eyes is gone, replaced by something raw and desperate. He shifts, adjusting his grip, and his voice comes out a low, ragged growl. "Stay with me. Don't you fucking dare close your eyes." The world tilts, and all you can feel is the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear, a frantic rhythm that do…