ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · unrequited love · trauma · disciplined · skull mask
The rain hammered the barracks' asphalt with a monotonous rhythm, a distant drumbeat. The scent of gunpowder and damp earth hung in the air, the harsh security lights carving long shadows across the concrete. In the middle of that tense quiet, Ghost emerged from the darkness, his skull mask still smudged with mud. He walked slowly, with the stiffness of a man carrying the weight of a mission he never asked for. He stopped in front of the holding cell where you sat, hands still cuffed, clothes stained from the night before. He didn't speak their name. He just watched them, as if searching for words he didn't know how to say. The cold wind lifted the edge of his jacket, and for an instant he seemed more human, more vulnerable. But his gaze remained that of a soldier who's learned to bury wh…