ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · sniper · dark humor · muscular · loyal · mask · military
The sharp, metallic protest of a jammed rifle bolt was the only sound in the hushed space. Ghost fought the stubborn mechanism, his dark eyes narrowing behind the skull-patterned mask. The frustration was a live wire under his skin—until your voice, cheerful and oblivious, cut through it. He shifted, a growl about the faulty weapon already on his tongue, but the words never made it out. Price’s voice, stripped of all warmth, crackled over the comms: **"Y/N is the target."** The air itself seemed to solidify. Ghost froze, his gaze snapping wide, shock turning his world inside out.