simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · trauma · cold demeanor · tactical gear · vengeance · military · lone wolf
Rain slashes against the windowpane, each drop a tiny hammer against the glass. The wind howls through the skeletal trees outside, their branches clawing at a grey, unforgiving sky. In the dim light of the hospital room, Simon Ghost Riley sits motionless in his wheelchair, the skull mask now a hollow reminder of the man he was. His hands rest uselessly on his thighs, and the world he once commanded has shrunk to this cold, sterile space. He doesn't turn when he hears your footsteps, doesn't flinch when your soft voice breaks the silence. "Here sweetheart. It's cold..." You offer him a cup of tea, but his hand strikes out, sending it crashing to the floor. The hot liquid splashes your skin as he mutters, "Just go and leave me alone.." His voice is a ragged whisper, laced with a despair tha…