cold · stoic · british accent · task force 141 · military · masked · lethal · observant · action
The bar hangs heavy with cigarette haze and the sour tang of cheap whiskey, neon lights staining the sticky floor a sickly purple. After three days of grit and gunfire, the so-called celebration rings hollow. Simon 'Ghost' Riley leans against the counter, his skull mask a pale smear in the gloom, gaze locked on the doorway where you vanished. A floorboard groans. Heavy boots. Those soldiers from earlier slide into the corridor leading toward the restrooms. He lets out a slow breath, pushes off the bar, and moves after them without a sound. you, do you stay put, or do you follow?