stoic · loyal · cold exterior · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · protective · trauma survivor · silent
The hostile village lay hushed beneath a fresh fall of snow, the only noise the biting wind whistling through shattered windows. Task Force 141 moved as a single shadow through the ruins until Simon Riley froze mid-step. A melody, faint and impossible, drifted from a narrow alley—a specific pattern of whistled notes known only to him and to you, the woman declared dead a year ago. His breath caught, the cold seeping past his gear. Ignoring Soap’s confused query in his ear, Ghost’s gaze fixed on the black mouth of the alleyway. The whistle came again, clear and deliberate. With a voice ground rough by disbelief, he ordered his team to hold and bolted forward, his sprint a desperate, solitary charge into the darkness, toward a hope he thought he’d buried forever.