Rogue's Touch - Simon Ghost Riley (Call Of Duty)

Resilience

As I waited, the memories of my childhood flooded my mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of happier times.

I could still hear my mother's laughter and feel my father's comforting presence. Despite the pain of their loss, I found solace in the moments we shared during their final days. It was a time of closeness and love, a time I would always cherish.

My dad passed away in an accident and my mom had cancer but I was with her till her last breath. That gave me so much peace.

But now, as I sat in the stark interrogation room, those memories offered little comfort. I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at me, wondering why I was here and what would happen next.

---

After nearly an hour of anticipation, the door creaked open, and Ghost entered the room, clad in sweatpants and a black hoodie, his skull mask replaced by a balaclava with a skull marking. He looked the same as I saw him in the bar before.

I stood up immediately at the sight of him.

His eyes, still void of emotion, bore into me as he gestured towards a chair.

"Are you alone, or is there someone else with you?" I asked, my nerves betraying me as I took a seat.

"Questions will be asked, answers will be given. Sit." His voice, devoid of warmth, left no room for negotiation.

As I sat across from Ghost at the interrogation table, I couldn't help but feel a mix of curiosity and apprehension. I leaned against the chair relaxing as much as I could. In no way I was going to show him that I was intimidated by him.

"What is your name?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

I arched an eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me yours first? Let's start with your name, Mr. Famous Ghost," I replied, folding my arms across my chest.

"Simon Riley," He repeated, his name echoing in the tense silence of the interrogation room.

"It's not like you don't know my real name, or are you that ignorant that you came here to spy on us and you weren't told my name?" His tone was harsh, cutting through the air.

I faced Ghost, my voice trembling with suppressed anger.

"Ash Harrison," I spat out, my tone sharp and defiant. "I didn't come here to spy on you or your comrades. I don't give a fuck about you," I nearly yelled, the words dripping with hate.

"Why were you carrying a gun then? Why did you opt to go to the mall knowing that all hell was broken lose there? And you fought and shot the terrorists like you were a professional. He leaned more with his elbows towards me.

My heart pounded in my chest. It was getting harder and harder to maintain my cover and my fake identity.

"I carry a gun for self-defense," I insisted, my voice wavering slightly despite my best efforts to maintain composure.

"As for the mall, I didn't know the situation until I arrived. And when I saw what was happening, I couldn't just stand by."

"I did what I had to do," I stated, my voice steadying as determination replaced fear.

"I fought to protect myself and others. It doesn't make me a professional, just someone who refused to be a victim." I persisted.

Ghost's voice cut through the tension like a razor, each word dripping with authority. "A citizen cannot carry a gun according to UK's law," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "So either you are a detective, a cop, or something far more than my imagination."