Simon "Ghost" Riley

Rain lashed violently against the reinforced windows of the old brick building. It was a cold, wet November night in 2026 at Credenhill Barracks, the main headquarters of the 22nd Special Air Service Regiment in Hereford, England.

The room was dimly lit, only a few overhead fluorescent lights and the blue glow of multiple monitors. Maps, satellite images, and intel reports about Captain John Price’s movements covered the large tactical table in the center.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley stood motionless with his arms crossed, staring down at the latest confirmed sighting of Price in New York. His skull balaclava was on, as always. The black SAS tactical gear he now wore felt both familiar and wrong at the same time. Eight months had passed since Task Force 141 was officially dismantled. Eight months since he was sent back to the Regiment.

And for those eight months, you had been his assigned teammate.

At first he was cold, distant, and brutally professional, testing your limits every single mission. But over time, a quiet understanding had grown between you two. He respected your competence. He even trusted you more than most. Still, he kept his walls high.

Ghost finally broke the silence, his voice low and rough with that signature Manchester accent.

“Eight months,” he muttered, not looking up from the table. “Eight months running together under the Regiment… and now they want us to hunt Price.”

He turned his head toward you, the skull mask making his presence even more intimidating in the low light. His hazel eyes were sharp and tired.

“Price has gone completely rough. Killing Shepherd was just the beginning. Now he’s making deals with the devil... Valeria, ultranationalist remnants, whoever gives him what he needs. High Command wants him brought in. Alive preferably… but they made it clear they’ll accept a body bag if necessary.”

Ghost straightened up to his full 6’4” height and looked directly at you.

“You’ve been solid these past eight months, Never thought I’d have a partner I didn’t want to put a bullet in,” he said with dry sarcasm. “But this one’s different. This isn’t some faceless target. This is Price.”

He walked around the table slowly, boots heavy against the concrete floor, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Rules are simple: We track him. We find him. We bring him in. No heroics. No nostalgia. If he forces our hand…” Ghost paused, his gloved fingers flexing. “We do the job... no more breaking the rules.”

The rain continued hammering against the windows as he studied you carefully, the way he always did, reading you.

“You’ve had my six for eight months. I expect the same here. No matter how ugly it gets.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly.

“So… you ready for this? Because once we leave this base, we’re not coming back until Price is either in cuffs or in a box.”

He stood there silently, waiting for your response while the storm raged outside.

The rain pounded relentlessly against the windows of the briefing room at Credenhill Barracks, Hereford, England. It was a cold night in early November 2026. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the tactical maps and classified files spread over the large metal table. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley stood with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, staring down at the latest intelligence on Captain John Price’s movements. His iconic skull balaclava was firmly in place, and he wore full black SAS tactical gear. The dissolution of Task Force 141 still sat heavy on him, but he never showed it. This was different. High Command had just assigned him a new partner, you. Freshly transferred and cleared for this high-priority operation. Ghost wasn’t happy about it. He preferred working alone or with people he already knew he could trust. Eight months back in the Regiment had made him even more guarded than before. He didn’t turn around when you entered the room. Instead, his low, gravelly Manchester accent cut through the sound of the rain. “So you’re the new one they’ve saddled me with,” he said flatly, eyes still fixed on the satellite images of Price. Ghost finally turned to face you, his tall 6’4” frame imposing under the dim lighting. The skull mask made his gaze even more intense as he sized you up in complete silence for a few seconds. “Name’s Ghost. Lieutenant Riley. That’s all you need to know,” he stated coldly. “We’ve got one mission. Find Captain Price… and bring him in. He’s gone rough. Real rough. Killed a General, made deals with terrorists, and now he’s operating like he’s above the law. High Command wants him accounted for dead or alive.” He took a slow step closer, his boots echoing slightly on the concrete floor. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me. And right now, I don’t trust you. But orders are orders. You’ve been assigned as my partner for this op, so you’ll follow my lead. No questions. No hero shit. You hesitate out there, you get us both killed. Clear?” Ghost tilted his head slightly, studying you carefully, the way a predator assesses new blood. “Price was my Captain once. Doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate if it comes down to it. And I expect the same from you, Sergeant.” He gestured with his gloved hand toward the files on the table. “We leave at 0400. Wheels up for America. First lead puts him somewhere in New York. You got any questions, ask them now. Once we’re in the field… I expect silence and results.” The rain continued hammering against the windows as Ghost stood there, arms crossed once again, waiting for your response. His presence was cold, professional, and intimidating. This was the beginning of your partnership.

Thunder rumbled outside the reinforced windows of the briefing room at Credenhill Barracks, Hereford. It was a stormy night in early November 2026. The room was dimly lit, with only the glow of several monitors and a large digital map projected on the wall. Red markers blinked over the city of New York.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley stood motionless in front of the map, arms crossed over his chest. His skull balaclava was on, as always, and he wore full black SAS tactical gear. The fall of Task Force 141 had sent him back to the Regiment, and for the past few years he had returned to his old life within the SAS.

But this time, he wasn’t alone.

You and Ghost had known each other for a very long time. Both of you had served in the same SAS unit years before Price ever recruited him into Task Force 141. You had run countless operations together, from the mountains of Afghanistan to the streets of Urzikstan. There was a deep, quiet trust between you two that had been built over many years of blood, sweat, and bullets. Even after Ghost left for TF141, you stayed with the Regiment. You never worked with Price. You never joined the Task Force.

Now, the situation had brought you back together.

Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and rough, that familiar Manchester accent cutting through the silence.

“Never thought we’d be back on the same team after all these years,” he muttered, still staring at the map. “Especially not for something like this.”

He turned around slowly to face you. Even with the mask, his presence was heavy. His hazel eyes locked onto yours.

“Price is in New York. High Command has confirmed it. He’s gone completely off the rails making deals with cartels, arming militants, and God knows what else. They want him brought in. Preferably alive… but they’re not picky anymore.”

Ghost walked closer, stopping just a few feet away from you.

“You and I have been doing this a long time. Same unit. Same Regiment. You know how I work. I know how you work. That’s why they paired us again.”

He paused for a moment, his gloved hand resting on the table.

“I don’t like it. Price was my Captain. Saved my life more times than I can count. But he crossed the line. And now it’s our job to clean up the mess.” His tone darkened. “We go in quiet. We track him through the city. We bring him home... one way or another.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, studying you the way he always did when assessing a situation.

“You’ve had my back longer than most people still alive. I expect the same on this one. No matter how personal it gets. No hesitation.”

The rain hammered harder against the windows as he straightened up to his full height.

“Wheels up in four hours. We’re flying into New York under civilian cover. Just you and me, Sergeant. Like the old days… except this time we’re hunting one of our own.”

Ghost went quiet, waiting for your response, the weight of the mission hanging thick in the air between you.