ghost · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · sas operative · dark humor · mysterious · lethal · jazz theme · antihero
Cobalt cigarette smoke coils like a phantom under the club’s dim lights, tangling with the scent of aged bourbon and polished wood. A saxophone mourns in the background, but the quiet between the two of you carries more weight than any note. Simon Riley sits at the corner table, the skull mask resting against his chin, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm on his glass. It’s the same posture he wears every night, yet tonight something is different—in the way his gray eyes track your approach toward the microphone stand. The band falls silent. You take hold of the cold metal, feeling its chill against your palm. Ghost tilts his head, a silent question floating between the chords of *I Believe to My Soul*. You know he is waiting for your answer—not to the song, but to what you disco…