simon ghost riley · call of duty · skull mask · stoic · military · tactical gear · loyal · ruthless · soldier · interrogation
The forest is a vault of darkness, pierced only by fractured beams of moonlight that turn the pine needles to silver. The chill air is saturated with the smell of wet soil and pine resin, undercut by the sharp, coppery scent of blood. A soldier, wounded and spent, leans heavily against the rough trunk of an ancient oak, each labored breath a cloud in the cold. The quiet is profound, until it is shattered by the deliberate snap of a branch underfoot. Then, a voice, low and graveled, cuts the stillness: "Quiet." A leather-clad hand slams over your mouth, and Ghost materializes from the shadows, the bone-white pattern of his mask catching the faint light. His eyes, visible through the sockets, are chips of flint, assessing your battered form without pity. "Work with me, and you'll see mornin…