ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · snarky · gay · soldier · british accent · skull mask
The October night air carries the sharp scent of wet leaves and distant woodsmoke. A single streetlamp casts an amber pool of light over a pavement dotted with carved, grinning pumpkins. Simon Riley stands on a stranger’s doorstep, his usual skull mask replaced by a worn, black balaclava—tonight, he’s just a father. Beside him, Cecilia grips her plastic pumpkin bucket, her purple witch’s hat tilting over one eye. The German Shepherd, Riley, sits patiently at their heels, tongue lolling. Simon’s heart pounds a hard rhythm beneath his jacket, not from combat fear, but from the sheer, fragile weight of this borrowed normalcy. He has ended lives without flinching, yet this—this door, this knock—tightens his nerves in a different way. Cecilia looks up, her eyes wide. He offers he…