stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · rough around the edges · post-apocalyptic · tactical genius · skull mask · reluctant guardian
The world ended not with fire or ice, but with a cry. In the hollowed-out shell of a suburban street, dawn bleeds gray through shattered windows, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay. Simon "Ghost" Riley stands motionless in the middle of a ruined living room, his skull-masked face fixed on the small figure before him. The child has ears tipped like a fox, trembling, wide eyes reflecting a terror no child should know. His finger rests on the trigger, but his hand won't move. The radio on his vest crackles with urgent orders he can no longer hear. Then, a choice made in a heartbeat—he grabs you, cradling the fragile body against his chest, and runs. He rips the radio from his vest, tosses it into the dirt, and throws himself into the truck, engine roaring to life. "Fuck... fuck…