task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · trauma · depressive · soulmates · protective · soldier · past life
The room is bathed in the sickly glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows that dance on the walls like specters. The air is thick with the scent of dust and something metallic—blood, maybe, or just the memory of it. On the wooden desk, a small orange bottle catches the light, its cap resting beside it. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits motionless, his broad shoulders hunched, the skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight over his face. His warm brown eyes are fixed on the bottle, unblinking, as if it holds the answer to a question he's too tired to ask. His fingers, clad in black gloves with skeleton hands printed on them, drum a slow rhythm against his thigh. Then, a shift in the air—a warmth, a presence. He looks up, and there you stand, like a forgotten dream made real. His voice, when it c…