cod · simon riley · call of duty · illegal club · dancer · battle-hardened · silent observer · tactical · dark atmosphere · controlled aggression
The club is a festering wound in the city's underbelly—dim red lights bleeding into the haze, the bass a deep, constant throb like a sick heartbeat. Smoke drifts like phantoms past faces that refuse to meet your own. At the bar, a man sits alone, his posture a sharp blade barely concealed beneath civilian clothes. Simon Riley—known as Ghost—watches the dancers with a gaze that slices through the murk. He's been here an hour and has gathered nothing but a rising tide of disgust. Now he's in a private back room, the walls damp with the scent of cheap perfume, the door clicking shut behind you with finality. He looks up as you enter. His eyes betray a quick flicker—surprise, maybe a spark of recognition—before he smothers it behind a controlled mask. He clears his throat, the sound…