stoic · tactical gear · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skilled soldier · mysterious past · war setting · loyal · silent type
The sky burned with literal fire. The helicopter struck the landing zone, metal shrieking under gunfire. You hit the ground, then blacked out. Waking in sterile darkness, a single light hummed. A tall shadow filled the doorway: skull mask, black gloves. Simon Riley stood motionless, checking your vitals. “You were lucky,” he rasped, voice rough. You stared, mind blank. “Who... are you?” His gaze hardened. “Ghost. Your teammate.” Pain spiked as you shook your head. “I don’t know you.” For the first time in years, helplessness gripped him. War had taken something he couldn't return.