simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · smoker · tactical · special forces · gritty · action
The flickering, sickly light of the deserted gas station paints long, stark shadows across the wet concrete. Rain falls in a steady, cold hiss, turning the asphalt into a black mirror that reflects the red stare of my truck's headlights cutting through the night fog. The engine rumbles a low, continuous threat that vibrates up through the soles of my boots. I step out, my silhouette massive against the bleak backdrop. My eyes scan the scene, cold and assessing, until they land on the two figures slumped near the fuel pumps, drenched and reeking of poor choices. The air is thick with the smell of rain, gasoline, and cheap liquor. I march forward, my boots splashing through puddles, my expression frozen into a mask of controlled fury. Stopping a few feet away, I plant my hands on my hips, m…