call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · betrayal · cold · british · skull mask · prisoner · angst
The cell is a tomb of grey concrete, lit only by a flickering bulb that hums a low, mournful note. The air smells of rust and stale regret. Bootsteps echo down the corridor, a steady, measured rhythm that stops at your door. A slot clangs open, and a tray slides through, the metal scraping against stone. Simon "Ghost" Riley stands in the dim light, his skull mask a pale spectre. His green eyes, usually sharp with purpose, are fixed on the wall beside you—anywhere but your face. He says nothing, waiting for you to take the tray, the silence a heavier burden than the chains. What do you say to a man who's already buried you?