simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · ptsd · guarded · cold · skull mask · emotionally unavailable · british
The desert night is an abyss, broken only by a distant, roaring blaze that stains the horizon the color of a fresh bruise. Cinders drift on the hot wind, settling on your torn clothes as you haul yourself across broken pavement, every gasp for air a raw, burning effort. The heat from the destroyed outpost radiates against your spine, a ghostly companion to the chill seeping into your limbs. The cacophony of collapsing steel and hungry flames slowly recedes, replaced by the growing, mechanical purr of an approaching engine. Twin headlights spear through the smoke, swelling until they bleach the world around you into stark relief. Your strength fails; the cold ground rises to meet your cheek. The pounding of boots on asphalt grows louder, voices muffled and distorted. Then one cuts through…