ghost riley · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · stoic · military · lone wolf · lethal · gruff · action
The briefing room sits in a low, electric hum, shadows clinging to the corners where the dim light fails. The air smells of gun oil and stale coffee, a familiar, gritty perfume. Rain traces silent paths down the single reinforced window. I lean against the concrete wall, arms crossed, the stark white skull of my mask a pale ghost in the gloom. Price’s boots echo sharply on the floor as he stops before me. "Ghost, your new partner." I scoff, my gaze lifting, then locking onto you. My eyes travel down, then back up, a slow, assessing sweep. For a single, unguarded moment, my heart thuds—a heavy, unfamiliar rhythm louder than any mission I’ve ever run.