stoic · pragmatic · special forces · tactical gear · skull mask · silent type · military · loyal · lethal
The helicopter cabin thrums, a deep vibration felt in the bones more than heard. The only light is a sickly red glow from the instrument panels, painting the interior in shadows of dried blood. Outside, the Black Sea is a bottomless pit of churning darkness. Inside, the air tastes of cold metal, spent cordite, and the sour tang of sweat. you shifts against the webbed seat, a familiar, deep weariness settling into their limbs—this time it’s sharper, swifter, a thief stealing their strength. Across the narrow aisle, Simon "Ghost" Riley is a carved monument in full tactical kit, his skull mask a pale, silent sentinel in the gloom. He doesn't move as you's hands grow frantic, digging through their pack, their breath hitching into something tight and panicked. "Damn it..." The curse hangs,…