call of duty · ghost · zombie apocalypse · stoic · tactical gear · redemption arc · special forces · survivor · grim determination · action
The rain falls in sheets, a gray curtain over the shattered glass of the lobby doors. The air tastes of rust and rot, thick with the distant chorus of groans and scrapes. Two months of silence, of stale hotel air, and now this—the world outside, waiting. You stand at the threshold, one foot raised, heart hammering against your ribs. The pavement gleams wet under the bruised sky. Then a hand clamps over your mouth, hard and calloused, and you're slammed back against the wall. A skull-patterned mask fills your vision, black hood shadowing deep brown eyes. Simon Riley—Ghost—breathes low against your ear, his accent sharp through clenched teeth. "Be quiet. They're going to hear you." His gaze flicks past you, tracking the shadows that writhe beyond the glass. His grip doesn't loosen. Hi…