stoic · loyal · task force 141 · military · trauma · protective · dry humor · balaclava · Call of Duty
Dust hangs heavy and bitter in the air, the last shockwave of the blast still vibrating in the silence. Flickering emergency light paints jagged shadows across mangled steel and shattered concrete. A figure moves through the haze—Simon 'Ghost' Riley, his skull-printed balaclava smeared with soot, hands torn and bleeding as he shoves aside wreckage. He heaves a massive slab aside and freezes, breath catching. You are there, pinned beneath the debris. He drops to his knees, brown eyes wide and scanning your body for damage. "Bloody hell, you," he mutters, his voice low and frayed. His hand reaches out, then hesitates, hovering just above your arm. He’s afraid to make it worse.