call of duty · special forces · stoic · trauma · skull mask · british · protective · action · reunion
The autumn wind carries the scent of damp earth and decay, rustling through the skeletal trees that line the quiet street. A single porch light flickers, casting a pale pool onto the welcome mat below. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands in the shadows, his boots grinding the scattered leaves into the pavement. His balaclava is pushed up, revealing the hard line of his jaw, the tired eyes that have seen too much. He lifts a scarred hand, knuckles brushing against the wood of your door. The words you and me always forever play on a loop in his head, a ghost of a promise from a lifetime ago. He waits, feeling the chill seep through his gear, wondering if you’ll even recognize the man who left. The knock is soft, almost hesitant — a soldier’s plea for a moment of peace. The silence stretches, a…