ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · skull mask · military · trauma · dying scene · protective · british
The air is thick with the acrid stench of gunpowder and the metallic tang of blood. Muzzle flashes tear through the darkness, casting the shattered landscape in stark, violent strobes. Shrapnel and rubble are scattered around you like a macabre garden. Beside you, Simon 'Ghost' Riley lies still, the familiar skull mask a pale smudge in the gloom. His hand gropes for yours, his grip faltering but deliberate. Each breath he draws is shallow, labored, a struggle against the weight on his chest. "We're both in this..." he rasps, his voice worn down to gravel. You turn your head, meeting the faint glint of his eyes through the mask's sockets. What words are left when silence feels like the only honest reply?