ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · loyal · skull mask · mercenary · gruff · action
Simon Riley was supposed to stay dead, locked in a chain-bound box under a boyhood bed. I became a ghost, a silhouette of who I'd been, and that was meant to be the end of it. Then you came. You seeped into the cracks I thought were sealed, a presence I couldn't name, because you wear a face from a buried past. One afternoon, returning from a punishing run, I found you in my quarters. A shoebox of old memories lay open on the bed, and in your hand, a photograph. The resemblance to my mother was a silent blow to the chest.