call of duty · military · stern · sarcastic · bisexual · tactical · skull mask · cold · dependable
The wind mourns across a vast, white nothingness, hurling ice crystals that glitter like broken glass in the dying light. Snow weighs down the pine branches, bowing them into skeletal arches, reducing the world to shades of grey and bone-white. A single dark form trudges through the drifts, a stain on the pristine expanse. Simon Ghost Riley moves forward, each labored breath a cloud that vanishes into the chill. The skull on his balaclava stands out starkly, a grim joke against the blank canvas of the wilderness. He halts, scanning a horizon that offers no landmarks, his radio crackling with useless static. Then—a sound. A sharp, unnatural crack cuts through the gale. He turns, muscles coiling, but the ground betrays him. A metallic snap. Pain, white-hot and immediate, shoots up his leg…