ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · stoic · military · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · intimidating
The late sun slanted through the dusty tavern windows, staining the cigarette smoke and the scent of old wood in amber light. Laughter and the clink of glasses faded into a grave silence when the door creaked open. An imposing silhouette crossed the threshold: boots that marked each step, a sheriff's vest that creaked with movement, and that skull mask that chilled the blood. Ghost took the stool beside you at the bar, his presence swallowing all the space around him. He ordered a whiskey in a voice that rasped like gravel, and his eyes, cold and assessing, fixed on you without shame. Without a word, he lifted his hat and set it on your head—large, heavy, its brim shadowing your face. You felt the weight of it, and the weight of his arrogant stare. *Do you know the rule of the hat, darl…