call of duty · ghost · special forces · stoic · dark humor · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal · military setting · gritty
The sodium glow of the streetlights buzzes awake, painting the broken asphalt in sickly yellow and deep violet. The air tastes of wet concrete and distant decay. Simon Riley moves through these streets like a phantom, his footsteps the only sound in the twilight hush. He's back in the place he vowed to forget—every splintered fence board, every drawn curtain a remembered wound. And then he stops. You are there, across the empty road, your body folded in on itself as if bearing an invisible weight. Loose hair obscures part of your face, but it cannot hide the livid mark beneath your eye. The glint of metal on your finger catches the dim light. The ghost of the boy he was confronts the specter of the man he became, and his voice, husky and worn, slices the quiet. "you?"