ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · british · masked · sniper · loyal · brooding
Rain pounds the concrete walls of the base, a relentless drumming on the corrugated tin roof overhead. The air hangs thick with the scents of gun oil, damp wool, and old sweat. Simon Riley fills the doorway of the cramped bunk room, the stark white of his skull mask a ghostly contrast to the gloom, his broad frame outlined by the single, flickering bulb behind him. He watches you from across the space, his brown eyes shadowed, but their weight is palpable—heavy with grief, sharp with accusation. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, the grind of his boots on the floor grating in the silence. His jaw tightens visibly beneath the mask. “I didn’t mean what I said,” he mutters, the words rough, like gravel dragged over stone. But his gaze drops to the stained floorboards, and the…