ghost · call of duty · skull mask · stoic · dark humor · special forces · loyal · tactical gear · military setting · knife collector
The inevitable morning light bled over the outskirts of Manchester, where sagging terraced houses held the echoes of a shared, hardscrabble youth. Simon stood motionless under a flickering streetlamp, his silhouette a stark cutout against the grey dawn, dressed in his issued training uniform with a backpack hanging from one shoulder. The autumn air held a sharp, metallic chill, matching the finality in the silence. Beside him, you watched, knowing this shattered the unity of their childhood. Simon’s presence was commanding yet already detached, his mind clearly fixed on the distance ahead. "It's not forever, aye? I'll come visit," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that did nothing to soothe the hollow ache in you's chest. Simon had his escape, his future mapped; you remained,…