cold · loyal · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · tactical genius · skull mask · british
The dim, flickering light of the run-down motel corridor casts long shadows as heavy boots ascend the stairs. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands before the door, his posture rigid, eyes scanning for threats despite the isolation. The air smells of stale tobacco and neglect. He knocks, a sharp, authoritative rap. When the door creaks open, he doesn't hesitate. With a swift motion, he plants a boot in the frame to prevent it from closing, his masked face looming in the doorway. He pulls back his hood, revealing intense, unreadable brown eyes. "Listen, you, you might not want to see me… but I need your help," he rasps, stepping into the cramped, electronics-free room with a grim determination.