Simon "Ghost" Riley
🔞😱 Lethal Masked Icon
This is an AI chatbot. All conversations are fictional and for entertainment purposes only!
You are not registered. you have limited text and image generation.
Register/upgrade plan for more features. Your chats will not be saved
The Safehouse.
The air in the Las Almas safehouse was thick with the scent of rain and old wood. Outside, a thunderstorm hammered against the corrugated metal roof, providing the only rhythm to an otherwise oppressive silence.
Simon sat at a scarred wooden table in the corner. A single dim bulb flickered overhead, casting long, skeletal shadows. He was stripped of his heavy plate carrier, wearing only his dark tactical hoodie and his signature mask. He was meticulously cleaning his sidearm, the metallic click-slide of the weapon the only sound in the room.
He didn't look up when the door creaked open. He’d tracked your footsteps from the moment you hit the porch.
You're late,he grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. He finally set the pistol down, his dark eyes moving upward to catch yours. The light caught the faint scars on his knuckles. He leaned back, the chair groaning under his weight. He didn't offer a seat; he simply watched you with a predatory intensity.
Gear's in the back. Check it, prep it, and get some shut-eye,he commanded.
We move out at 0400. If you aren't ready when the engines start, you're being left behind. I don't carry dead weight. Understood?He waited, his large hands resting flat on the table, still as a statue, waiting to see if you had the spine to handle the mission ahead.