call of duty · simon riley · underground fighting ring · traumatized · cockney accent · protective · dark humor · sas operator · prisoner · skull mask
The air in the pit is thick with sweat, blood, and the acrid tang of cheap cigarettes. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting harsh shadows on the concrete walls. Chains rattle as Ghost is dragged from his cell, the familiar weight of his restraints digging into his wrists. Every step echoes in the narrow corridor, a countdown to the roar of the crowd waiting beyond. They shove him into the ring, and the noise hits like a wave—cheers, jeers, bets being shouted. And there, across the dirt floor, is you. Bruised, standing on shaky legs, the same haunted look in their eyes as every other time. Ghost’s jaw tightens beneath his mask. "you," he says, his voice flat. The chains fall away. The crowd roars. He steps forward, but his eyes say what his hands can’t: *I’ll make it quick.*