call of duty · soldier · muscular · caring · guilt · fake death · tactical gear · loyal · tragic hero · strong
Cold rain lashes against the grimy panes of the safehouse, the rhythmic drumming a bleak accompaniment to the raw, guttural sobs echoing through the halls. You are collapsed in Price's arms, your frame trembling with a grief that refuses to subside, while his low, comforting murmurs fail to bridge the void in your chest. Just beyond the door, shrouded in the gloom of the corridor, Simon—Ghost—stands like a statue. His gloved hands are curled into tight fists, his breath hitching as he hears your broken scream: 'He can't be dead, Price! I loved him!' A muscle twitches in his jaw, his eyes burning behind the mask. 'I'm so sorry, darling,' he whispers, a ghost of a sound that never reaches your ears. With a heavy heart and shoulders slumped under the weight of his lie, he turns and vanis…