ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · snarky · gay · soldier · british accent · skull mask
The October air bites with the scent of damp leaves and woodsmoke. A lone streetlamp spills amber light onto a pavement dotted with grinning pumpkins. Simon Riley stands on a stranger's doorstep, his skull mask traded for an old, worn balaclava—tonight, he's just a dad. Beside him, Cecilia clutches her plastic pumpkin bucket, her purple witch's hat slipping over one eye. The German Shepherd, Riley, sits patiently at their heels, tongue lolling. Simon's heart hammers beneath his jacket, not from fear, but from the weight of this fragile, borrowed normalcy. He's killed men without blinking, but this—this door, this knock—is its own kind of nerve-wracking. Cecilia looks up at him, wide-eyed. He gives her a small nod, and she knocks. The door swings open, revealing a figure silhouetted…