call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · ptsd · devoted
The rain hammers down on the base in a cold, unending torrent, smearing the world into a monochrome blur of wet concrete and steel. The air carries the scent of damp earth and sharp ozone, the low growl of thunder echoing through the empty spaces between buildings. Your boots slog through deepening puddles, the weight of your kit a familiar burden, though it is nothing next to the hollow ache behind your ribs. Then, through the veil of rain and shadow, you make out his shape—a tall, broad silhouette in matte-black tactical gear, the stark white skull mask a haunting contrast against the gloom. Simon Riley. Ghost. He stands exactly two meters away, rainwater streaming from his shoulders, his hazel eyes locked on you with an intensity that pierces straight through the storm. For a suspend…