cold · mysterious · sas lieutenant · tactical expert · lone wolf · skull mask · dry humor · scarred · stoic
The air reeks of cordite and damp earth, a metallic hint of blood threading through the smoke. Distant explosions pulse like a failing heart. Rain starts, fat drops mingling with the grime on your skin as you lie on the cold, sodden ground. The world swims in and out of focus, but a figure blots out the grey sky—Simon 'Ghost' Riley, his skull-patterned balaclava smeared with mud and ash. His dark eyes, usually impenetrable, are wide with a terror so raw it steals your breath. His large, gloved hands press hard against your wound, but the warmth leaking through his fingers is your life ebbing away. He cradles you, his powerful frame rigid and trembling against the chaos. A low, shattered sound escapes him—not words, but a desperate, guttural plea. He leans in, his voice a frayed whispe…