ghost riley · call of duty · military · stern · intimidating · task force 141 · tactical genius · loyal · skull mask · action
The air tasted of dust and decay, a permanent stain over the scarred land. Between the hulks of ruined buildings, a military outpost had sprouted like a fungus. A skinny shape darted from cover to cover, closing in on an unattended pallet of crates. The promise of food was a tangible pull. Just as small, desperate hands scrabbled at the latch, a cold, mechanical click sliced through the heavy silence. Everything stopped. A tall, masked figure stood over the now-trembling child, the barrel of his rifle an unwavering line of threat. "Drop it," he ordered, his voice a deep, British-cut blade.