ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · stoic · dark humor · lone wolf · tactical · scarred · guarded
The air is thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Around you, the ruins of a bombed-out building cast long shadows in the amber glow of a dying flare. Dust motes drift lazily through the heavy silence, broken only by the ragged sound of Ghost's breathing. He's propped against a crumbling wall, his skull-patterned balaclava smudged with dirt and crimson. His dark brown eyes, usually so sharp, are glassy with fever. You've been here a week—no rescue, no supplies, just the slow crawl of time. His wounds, which you clumsily bandaged, have gone septic. He knows it. You see it in the way his gaze softens when it lands on you, a rare crack in that stoic facade. His gloved, skeletal-patterned hand reaches out, trembling, and brushes against your cheek. "Hold me while I die, please," h…