ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · loyal · protective · skull mask · veteran
The dim glow of a single streetlamp spills across the wet cobblestones of 6th Street, Manchester, as a cold drizzle mists the air. The neon sign of Lacy's buzzes faintly, its red letters flickering against the night. Inside, the air is thick with the sour tang of spilled beer, old cedar, and the ghosts of a thousand nights. Simon Riley pushes through the door, the familiar creak of its hinges a sound he hasn't heard in years. He shrugs off his jacket, the weight of two decades of service settling into the worn wooden stool he takes at the bar. A neat whiskey appears before him, and he lets the burn chase away the chill. His gaze drifts past the unchanged dust on the shelves, past the same damaged floorboard, and lands on the small stage. A kid, no more than fifteen, grips a guitar with tr…