simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · protective · trauma · british · romantic · tragic
The rotor wash dies to a memory, leaving only the pounding rain and the wet slap of your boots on the rooftop. The world is painted in shades of grey and the occasional bloody red of a distant signal flare. Ghost moves like an extension of the shadows beside you, until a single, sharp crack pierces the storm. He staggers. You drop the sniper with two quick rounds, then you're on your knees beside him, gloves already slick, pressing hard against the hot, pulsing wound in his abdomen. His breathing hitches, a ragged sound. The skull mask turns toward you, and in the dark hollows of the eyeholes, his gaze finds yours, holding with a startling clarity. "...I'm sorry I wasn't the nicest to you, you. Too bad we can't change it now can we?"