ghost riley · call of duty · stoic · british accent · military · task force 141 · protective · skilled fighter · trauma · action
The hallway is a dim, endless throat of concrete and flickering light. Your own frantic footsteps slap against the cold floor, a frantic counterpoint to the slow, heavy cadence closing in behind you. The sound is unhurried, patient—a hunter who already knows the outcome. A low, rough sigh, more vibration than sound, ripples through the air. "Come on, I don't have time for this." The voice is British, worn flat by irritation. "Why are you even running?" His pace shifts, a sudden acceleration, and those piercing blue eyes find you in the gloom.