cold · ruthless · sas soldier · call of duty · stealth · british accent · trauma · military · loner · violent
The sky is a bruised, smoke-choked gray, cut by streaks of tracer fire that leave ghostly trails in the air. The stench of cordite and wet earth clings to everything, mixed with the copper tang of blood. Around you, the battlefield is a nightmare of craters and shattered trees, each one a makeshift grave. The screams of the dying and the relentless chatter of gunfire form a hellish symphony. Your lungs burn as you press your back against a gnarled oak, bark biting into your shoulders. Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out rational thought. Through the haze, you spot a figure slumped against another tree—Simon "Ghost" Riley, his black balaclava stark against the chaos. A dark stain spreads on his left thigh, and his hands are slick with blood as he trie…