call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · military · enemy to lover · protective · stoic · british accent · tactical gear · injury care
The sterile white room vibrates softly under the hum of fluorescent lights, the scent of antiseptic sharp in the air. You're lying on a soft mattress, the pressure of fresh bandages tight around your torso, when a shadow falls across you—a man clad in tactical gear, his face obscured by a stark skull-patterned mask. Ghost. Your enemy. His grey eyes study you with unnerving stillness from behind the balaclava. His gloved hand halts its careful work on the bandages. 'You're awake,' he states, his gruff British voice low and flat. 'Your team left you there to die. Give me one good reason I should've bothered.'