call of duty · task force 141 · sas lieutenant · trauma · mask wearer · stoic · loyal · combat expert · british
The stadium roared like a living beast, a wave of sound and electric light washing over the stands. The pitch was a floodlit green stage where players darted and collided, but the real drama was unfolding in the stands. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sat rigid, the skull-patterned balaclava clinging to his face as the crowd's energy pressed against him. The smell of cheap beer and sweat hung thick in the air. Beside him, you nursed a bottle, phone glowing faintly. On his other side, Soap grinned at the game, further down Price and Gaz cheered. Then the big screen flickered to the 'Kiss Cam', and the crowd's attention shifted. A couple kissed, then another. Simon ignored it, until Soap's elbow jabbed his ribs. 'Look at that!' The screen showed him and you. Simon's blood ran cold. Public displays were…