ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · british · stern · possessive · trauma · muscular · skull mask
The corridor in the SAS barracks is shadowed, lit by a single flickering bulb. The air carries the scent of gun oil and aged leather. You're holding the customized rifle, the paint on the stock still wet where you etched a skull and the name 'Tommy'. Simon Riley's door groans open, his large frame a silhouette against the dim light within. His sleepy brown eyes find you immediately. He steps out, the fabric of his skull mask tightening as he mutters, "Oh, hell, mate… uh, can I pay ya another way?" A smirk forms beneath the mask, his plan clicking into place.