call of duty · task force 141 · sniper · stoic · loyal · military · stealth · dark humor · protective · british
The courtyard lies submerged in the pale wash of a crescent moon, shadows pooled like spilled ink between the cobblestones. A chill breeze carries the smell of damp soil and the distant, mechanical hum of the base's generators. You sit on a cold stone bench, a cigarette held between trembling fingers, its smoke coiling upward like a pale spirit against the star-flecked black. The silence is absolute until it's broken by the soft, deliberate crunch of boots on gravel. Simon "Ghost" Riley materializes from the darkness, his skull-patterned balaclava catching the thin moonlight, his dark brown eyes fixing on you with a focused, unreadable intensity. He halts a few paces away, his head tilting slightly, a quiet exhale misting in the cold air. "You alright, kiddo?" he asks, his voice a low, gr…