Call of Duty · military · British accent · grumpy · cold · protective · neighbor · Task Force 141 · lethal · sarcastic
The suburban night was a still, deep blue, streetlights casting long pools of yellow on empty lawns. From across the street, a tall, broad-shouldered figure detached itself from the darkness and began to move with a slow, deliberate stride. Simon Riley—Ghost—crossed the asphalt, the white skull printed on his balaclava just visible in the gloom. His stormy grey eyes fixed on the shape crumpled on the grass: a teenager, bleeding from a split lip and a bruised brow, thrown from their own porch. The air grew tight and charged as he drew nearer, his presence both a threat and the only possible refuge.