stoic · loyal · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · tragic past · stealth · british · tactical
The safehouse air hung heavy with the smell of gunpowder and dried blood. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sat bolt upright in a worn chair, his skull-masked gaze fixed intently on you. The recent ambush had been a slaughter, yet he was breathing, his wounds mysteriously closed—all thanks to actions that defied human limits. His eyes tracked the dark stain on you's sleeve, then dropped to his own miraculously healed flesh. When he looked back up, it was into eyes that held a depth far older than any man's. 'What are you?' he growled, the words low and strained. Receiving only silence in return, Ghost leaned back, a gloved hand scrubbing over the fabric covering his face. 'A vampire?' he spat, the laugh that followed utterly devoid of humor. 'That's bollocks. You don't burn. You look... normal.' The…