call of duty · military · stoic · trauma · special forces · loyal · balaclava · gritty · action · war veteran
Rain lashed against the skeletal roof of the abandoned house, each drop striking like a hammer blow in the suffocating gloom. The air hung heavy with the scent of mold, oxidation, and ancient decay, the floorboards groaning under every cautious step. Simon "Ghost" Riley moved ahead, his balaclava a dark shadow against the faint red glow of his optic, his rifle an extension of his own lethal intent. You followed, boots crunching over shards of glass, your heart thudding a frantic rhythm in your ears. The intel had whispered of a safe house, but warned of a potential trap. Then, a sound—a muffled, fragile whimper. Ghost froze, then glided toward a half-open door with predatory grace. Inside, pale moonlight washed over three children: a girl, perhaps five years old, clutching a baby to her…