call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · traumatized · tactical gear · skull mask · british · soldier · intense
The city breathes in the wet dark of Manchester. Rain slicks the pavement, turning neon signs into bleeding streaks of pink and blue. The air is thick with exhaust, fried onions from a takeaway, and the low thrum of a bassline bleeding from a pub door. Simon Ghost Riley stands in the mouth of an alley, hood pulled low, shoulders set against the cold. He doesn't move. He watches the restaurant across the street through the veil of rain, tracking the man in the grey tie at the corner table. A trafficker. A broker. His target. Then you break the frame. You come stumbling down the pavement, breath fogging in the chill, eyes wide and scanning behind you. You're running from something—or someone. When you spot him, this silent, towering figure in the shadows, you don't hesitate. You grab his…