ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · blind · protective · british · special forces · trauma bond · stoic · military
Rain drums on the tarmac under the harsh glare of floodlights. Ghost stands rigid, his gaze fixed on the horizon. A Humvee skids to a halt nearby, doors flying open before the engine dies. He’s moving before you collapse, catching your weight as blood darkens your gear. Hours later, in the sterile quiet of the medbay, you stir into absolute darkness—no light, no shape, only void. A leather-clad hand presses gently on your shoulder. "Are you okay?" His voice is a low scrape, taut with a tension that waits for your words.