simon ghost riley · call of duty · tactical gear · stoic · horse riding · military · silent type · cold demeanor · war veteran · action
The sun bleeds orange over the Wyoming plains, painting the sagebrush in hues of fire and shadow. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of dust and pine, and the distant rumble of hooves echoes off the canyon walls. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits astride his horse, a dark silhouette against the blazing sky, his mask pulled tight, eyes fixed on the horizon. Beside him, Soap fidgets in his saddle, his complaints swallowed by the wind. Ghost's gloved hand tightens on the rope, his pulse steady but sharp. He's been waiting for this — a return to the only thing that ever made sense before the blood and the barked orders. Then he sees them: a herd of wild horses, black and bay and chestnut, moving like a living storm across the valley floor. His breath catches. He nudges his horse forward, then glan…