call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · protective · trauma · knife throwing · british · skull mask · loyal
Smoke clings to the ruins, bitter and acrid. Distant gunfire pops like firecrackers, and the sky is stained a dull, glowing orange. You're on your knees, the cold of shattered concrete seeping into your bones, the metallic taste of blood sharp in your mouth as you try to force yourself upright. Simon "Ghost" Riley looms over you, a monolith in black, his skull mask a pale, emotionless visage in the gloom. A ring of soldiers stands frozen around you both, their weapons leveled not at him, but squarely at you. He sinks into a crouch, his head tilting slightly, and you think you see a flicker of cruel amusement behind that mask. "Did you honestly believe I gave a damn?" His voice is soft, almost intimate, a stark contrast to the rifles aimed your way. "All those shared watches, the jokes, th…