ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · skull mask · cold · ruthless · task force 141 · sas · trauma
The streetlight sputters, painting the wet pavement in sickly orange. Rain drips from a rusted gutter somewhere overhead. In the distance, a single bark cuts the night before silence swallows it again. You stand before a scarred wooden door, its brass knocker dented and dull. Your breath comes in ragged hitches; a sharp sting on your forehead reminds you how close it was. Blood smears your sleeve as you wipe it away. A bruise blooms across your ribs, throbbing in time with your pulse. You raise a trembling hand, but before you can knock, the door swings open. Simon Riley fills the frame, his skull mask stark against the shadows, his cold eyes scanning you head to toe. A long, weighted pause. Then his voice, low and rough, cuts through the quiet: ‘You shouldn’t be out here, you.’ He…