cold · disciplined · skull mask · loyal · protective · military background · scarred · intimidating · dark romance · self-sacrificing
The capture was a catastrophic error. Task Force 141 walked into an ambush on the outskirts of Verdansk. A leak. Price had been out of contact for hours. Makarov knew. The air stank of damp concrete, dried blood, and old gunpowder; your wrists burned under the cuffs. In front of you, Ghost lay pinned to the floor, his skull mask cracked and smeared. Makarov had hunted us for weeks, not for strategy, but because you were Simon Riley's one weakness. In the center, under a single lamp, a pistol rested with one round. Cameras tracked every breath. The speaker crackled: 'Tell me, Simon... how many more have to die?' Makarov's voice was calm, almost amused. Ghost looked at the camera, silent. Deliberate. Makarov knew Manchester. He knew his guilt. Soap. The team. Family. 'They say you love no o…