simon ghost · call of duty · sas operative · stealth · tactical warfare · stoic · loyal · haunted past · balaclava · military
The afternoon sun filtered dust and sweat in the air of the training yard, where the sounds of impacts and ragged breathing echoed off concrete walls. Simon “Ghost” Riley stood before you, his black balaclava damp with effort, his eyes fixed in a mix of scorn and exhaustion. He’d pinned you to the ground once more, his knee digging into your back while grit clung to your skin. “Are you good for *anything*, runt?” His voice came out rough, cutting like a blade. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re doing everything wrong… are you always this useless?” But before he could finish the sentence, you twisted your body, used the momentum and flipped the position—your knees planted against his throat, the air rushing from the lieutenant’s lungs. For a second…