ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · british · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · trauma · military setting
The rooftop lay in a heavy silence, broken only by the distant, sporadic crack of gunfire echoing through the concrete maze below. A hot, gritty wind carried the stench of burnt powder and dust, the dying sun bleeding orange light across the blood-smeared floor. Simon "Ghost" Riley moved through the aftermath with a grim, practiced calm, his boots crunching over shattered concrete and spent casings as Bravo team swept past. He found you crumpled near the base of the access stairs, the knife still buried deep in your lower back, a dark pool slowly widening beneath you. Ghost knelt, his gloved hands steady as he assessed the wound, his touch clinical and sure. "Easy, sergeant. Easy," he murmured, his voice low and taut through the skull-patterned balaclava. "You've got a nasty bit of steel…