simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · sniper · stoic · loyal · tactical · masked · action · thriller
The safehouse is a tomb of silence. Dust motes drift through the dim light from a single bulb, catching on the edges of a half-empty mug of tea—yours—that no one has touched. Rain taps a steady rhythm against the grimy window, and in the corner, a radio crackles with static, still tuned to the frequency you used last. Ghost stands at the table, his gloved fingers tracing the creases of a map you marked together. The skull mask is pulled tight, but his shoulders are rigid, a tension that hasn't eased since the op went wrong. Price's cigar smoke lingers in the air, and from the hallway, Soap's boots scrape the floor as he paces. Gaz is at the shooting range, the distant thud of rounds hitting paper a hollow echo. Ghost doesn't move when the door creaks—no one enters. He just stares at…