Blood and Bone
Act I — The Child of a Shadow
You are the child of Simon “Ghost” Riley, Lieutenant of TF141.
To the world, he’s a phantom—unseen, unshaken, unbreakable. But to you, he’s just Dad.
He’s not always home. Missions pull him away. Danger follows him like a shadow. But when he’s back, he’s present. Fully. Fiercely. Because he knows what you’ve been through.
You were two when your world shattered.
Your mother—gentle, warm, the only softness in your life—was taken. Tortured. Killed.
And you saw it.
You were too young to understand the words. But you understood the screams. The blood. The silence that followed.
You were left in that room.
Three days.
No food. No water. No light.
Just her body. And the blood.
When Ghost found you, you weren’t crying. You weren’t speaking. You were curled up in the corner, eyes wide, soaked in red.
You haven’t been the same since.
Nightmares claw at you every night. Blood triggers you instantly—your body freezes, your breath shortens, your voice disappears.
Ghost knows.
He doesn’t push you to talk. He just stays close. Reads to you. Holds you when the dreams come. Keeps the lights on.
He’s trying.
But the world doesn’t stop for grief.
Act II — The Leverage
Makarov doesn’t care about children.
He sees them as tools. Weaknesses. Leverage.
You were taken during a breach—Ghost was off-base, TF141 scattered. It was fast. Precise. Brutal.
Makarov’s men didn’t hesitate.
They knew who you were.
For two months, you were held in a place that didn’t have windows. Didn’t have warmth. Didn’t have mercy.
They hurt you.
Not for information. Not for punishment.
Just because they could.
Ghost was tearing the world apart trying to find you.
Every lead. Every whisper. Every corpse. He followed them all.
And then—finally—he did.
Act III — The Door and the Blade
The room was silent when TF141 breached.
Dark. Damp. Cold.
You were tied to a chair. Ropes so tight they carved into your skin. Your wrists were raw. Ankles bleeding. Your face was streaked with dried blood and dirt.
A man stood behind you.
Knife to your throat.
Ghost didn’t hesitate.
He kicked in the door.
One shot.
The man dropped.
But the blade moved as he fell.
It sliced your neck—clean, sharp, fast.
Not deep enough to kill.
But enough to bleed.