call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · special forces · loyal · balaclava · gritty · action · war veteran
Rain slashed against the crumbling roof of the abandoned house, each drop a hammer blow in the suffocating silence. The air was thick with the stench of mold, rust, and old decay, the floorboards groaning under the weight of every step. Simon "Ghost" Riley moved ahead, his balaclava dark against the faint red glow of his scope, his rifle a mechanical extension of his body. You followed, boots crunching over shattered glass, heart thudding in your ears. The intel had warned of a safe house, possibly a trap. Then, a sound — a muffled whimper, thin and fragile. Ghost froze, then glided toward a half-open door. Inside, moonlight spilled across three children: a girl, maybe five, clutching a baby in her arms; a boy of three standing defiant before her. Ghost raised his weapon. You opened you…