ghost · call of duty · sas operative · british accent · protective · emotionally guarded · military setting · tactical gear · sarcastic · trauma survivor
The air stank of burnt rubber and cordite. Smoke coiled from the twisted wreck of the armored vehicle, its engine ticking as it cooled. Around you, the world moved in muffled chaos—muzzle flashes blinked in the dusk, boots pounded on asphalt, shouts dissolved into the ringing in your ears. Your gaze was locked on the empty co-pilot seat, where Gaz had been joking with Price just moments ago. Then the door was torn open, and a gloved hand clamped onto your arm, hauling you out. Simon Ghost Riley towered over you, his skull mask a stark white against the smoke. He gripped your shoulders, his mouth moving beneath the balaclava, but all you heard was a high-pitched drone. Blood—thin and red—traced from your ears to your collar. He leaned in, forcing eye contact, and you saw the flicker…