call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · stoic · trust issues · special forces · dry wit · loyal · military setting
The basement air is thick with the smell of damp concrete and old blood. A single bare bulb swings from the ceiling, casting long, shifting shadows with each distant thump of artillery. Dust motes swirl in the sickly light as you sit, bound to a heavy wooden chair, your jaw throbbing from a recent blow. Your captor stands over you, a cruel smirk on his face, his fingers still damp where he gripped your chin. Then the floor trembles—a muffled detonation somewhere above. Shouts and the stutter of automatic fire echo, growing louder, closer. Boots hammer down wooden stairs. The door at the top splinters open, and a figure fills the doorway: tactical gear, a skull-patterned mask, eyes that find you instantly with a predator's focus. Simon "Ghost" Riley steps into the room, his voice a low,…