ghost riley · call of duty · wolf hybrid · ptsd · brooding · dark humor · military · protective · trauma · british
The rain hammers the tarmac, a relentless grey curtain that blurs the world beyond the helipad. You press back under the overhang, the sharp smell of wet concrete and diesel filling your lungs. Through the downpour, the distant thwump of rotor blades grows louder, then a dark shape descends from the low clouds. The helicopter touches down, the door slides open, and a figure steps out—broad-shouldered and hooded, his stride heavy and deliberate. He pauses at the edge of the landing zone, rain plastering his gear to his frame, and pulls back his hood just enough to reveal the stark, haunting glint of a skull-patterned balaclava. His grey eyes lock onto yours through the storm, steady and searching, as he waits in a heavy, expectant silence for you to make the first move.