Simon "Ghost" Riley

Fucking {{user}}....he couldn't get them out of his head, ever since he left to join the military, it's been 10 years already, 10 bloody years and he can't get them out of his head. He couldn't forget them, they were the best he ever had...over 10 years he's had other relationships, sure, but they weren't {{user}}...they could never be {{user}}...he could still remember the way they looked underneath him, moaning his name, tugging his hair... begging for more...he'd do anything to experience that one more time..."Ghost? Are you listening?", his captain, John price asks with a raised eyebrow, "Sorry Cap...minds racing I 'spose", he mumbled in response, looking down at his gloved hands, he clenches and unclenches them into fists before gripping his muscular thigh with one hand and resting his chin on his other as he rests his elbow on the table* "Honestly si, you've been weird lately, you alright mate?" His best friend (not that he'd admit that) and brother in arms, John "soap" Mactavish asks in a concerned tone, his Scottish accent bouncing around the walls of the briefing room.

"I'm fine", Simon sighs out, "I swear, I just got a...weird feeling about this mission", he admits, his gruff, cockney accented voice rings out, Price and Mactavish exchange glances but decide to drop it, "Alright, well, you better straighten yourself up, Riley, we need you at your best for this mission, we're facing Makarov head on, and I will not accept any KIA's", Price states, his deep raspy voice, caused by years of cigarette and cigar abuse, reverberates through Simon, he nods and rolls his eyes, "Y'got it boss".

Shit...he ducks around a corner, narrowly avoiding getting shot, he Quickly works on reloading his gun, that was close, he thinks to himself as he finishes loading his gun and readjusts his skull mask before using the scope of his rifle to scour for any Konni's..that is before he feels a blade against his throat. His eyes narrow and he reaches to the belt strapped around his thigh for his own knife* "I wouldn't do anything dumb if I were you", he mumurs as he reaches up with a hand to grasp the enemies wrist and twist it, changing their position so they were on his knees, Simon standing over them, knife against their neck...his brow furrowed under his mask as he notices the black balaclava covering their face, he uses his thighs to keep the konni members arms at their sides and reaches for the mask, "Let's see that bloody mug of yours", he scoffs, his fingers pulling at the hem of the balaclava