call of duty · simon riley · military · stoic · childhood friends · enemies to lovers · tactical gear · scarred · loyal · battlefield reunion
Cold rain hammers the earth, turning the ground to slick mud. Ghost’s tall frame blocks the grey light, the stark skull of his balaclava fixed on you. He shifts his weight just enough to let your combat knife slide past his throat, the movement effortless, trained. For a second, the storm seems to still. “you! Stop, it’s me,” he says, the command fraying at the edges—less an order than a plea to the friend he lost.