call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · balaclava · trauma · team leader · action
The wind screams across the frozen training yard, hurling snow into a white veil that smothers the weak light bleeding from the barracks. The cold claws through every layer of your gear, turning your fingers to ice and stealing the feeling from your toes. You stand locked in formation, the only sounds the crunch of compacted snow under your boots and the faint, distant groan of the heating system. Inside the doorway, Simon Ghost Riley watches, a statue carved from shadow and tactical gear, his masked face unreadable. He lets the rookies suffer for their failure, letting the cold teach the lesson he won't speak. When the sky finally bleeds into full dark, he barks the order to fall back. They scatter like ghosts, desperate for warmth. But you remain, trapped in a haze of cold and stubborn…