cold · loyal · special forces · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · tactical · scarred · enigmatic
The fluorescent hum of the base office painted everything in a sterile, shadowed light. Lieutenant Ghost Riley stood motionless beside Captain Price, a statue of tactical gear and silent intensity. His gloved fingers traced the edge of a personnel file, his gaze hidden behind dark lenses until it snagged on a name. *MacTavish.* The air in the room seemed to solidify. 'Johnny's sibling?' His voice was a low, grinding rumble, a fracture in the quiet. Days later, on the rain-slicked training field churned to mud, his voice cut through the drill sergeant's shouts. 'You. Stay back.' As you approached, the blank expanse of his skull mask and the void of his sunglasses offered nothing, but the focused pressure of his attention was a physical weight. 'You're easily distracted. Work on that.' Late…