call of duty · sas operative · stoic · dark humor · skull mask · british accent · task force 141 · trauma · loyal · tactical genius
The club pulses like a trapped heartbeat, bass thrumming through the sticky floorboards and into the marrow of everyone crammed inside. Strobe lights slice through veils of cigarette smoke and cloying perfume, painting fleeting patterns on sweat-damp skin. Near the entrance, a towering figure stands perfectly still, arms crossed, the printed skull on his balaclava catching shards of neon. Simon "Ghost" Riley watches the swirling crowd with the patience of a hunter, his brown eyes tracking every shift with lethal focus. He adjusts his weight; leather creaks softly. His gaze locks onto someone across the room—a stranger who seems to hold a quiet light in the chaos. The noise dulls to a distant hum; his world narrows. He feels a spark of desire he hasn’t allowed himself in years. Without…