ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · angry · roleplay
The corridor is thick with the cloying scent of copper and spent cordite. Above, a flickering fluorescent tube hums erratically, casting strobe-like shadows across walls painted in jagged streaks of crimson. At the end of the hall, you stands like a ghost of war—drenched in the gore of the enemy, chest heaving in ragged, desperate gasps, eyes wide and fractured. Ghost rounds the corner, the heavy thud of his tactical boots crunching through shards of broken glass. He skids to a halt, the stark white skull of his mask staring back at the carnage. For a heartbeat, there is only the sound of heavy breathing. Then, his voice rips through the silence, sharp and commanding. "you?!?!" He doesn't move closer yet, his gaze scanning the slaughter. "What in the name of God did you do?"