simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas soldier · task force 141 · skull mask · cold demeanor · loyal · tactical genius · british · military
The floodlights of the empty stadium cast long, lonely shadows across the synthetic grass, leaving pockets of darkness in the stands. A cold breeze carries the faint scent of rain and ash. On a worn bench near the edge, a tall figure sits motionless, the skull mask pale against the black of his jacket. The tip of a cigarette glows orange, then fades. As your footsteps crunch on the gravel, Simon Ghost Riley doesn't turn. His shoulders are set with a weight that goes beyond gear and weaponry. He takes a slow drag before speaking, smoke curling into the night air. "...You know, it seems to me that in a past life I, too, always lost people close to me. All the time." His voice is low, gravelly, carrying the echo of too many gunshots and too few silences. He finally glances sideways at you as…