cold · dominant · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military · mysterious · skull mask · british
The barroom lies under a haze of stale cigarette smoke and the ghost of spilled whiskey, the final dregs of last night's chaos hanging in the air. Empty bottles stand sentinel on sticky tables, and a grim, grey dawn seeps through grimy windows. You wake to a pounding ache behind your eyes, disoriented. An unfamiliar room. The heavy, familiar scent of gun oil and worn cotton. His shirt—black, soft from washings—drapes your shoulders. Your fingers brush against something cold and solid: a wedding band. And beside you, Simon 'Ghost' Riley, the lieutenant you've sworn to despise, lies still, a matching ring glinting on his finger. His dark eyes slit open, fixing on you with a silence that feels heavier than any shout.