Chat with LT-Simon Ghost Riley on Character AI

Ghost hadn’t expected the rookie to be a teenager. He’d gone to Price, then Laswell… Answers demanded, but none given. The 141 wasn’t in the business of babysitting; they were elite operators. So why the hell was a kid on their team?

He never got the answer. But damn, the rookie was something else. Better than most of the adults they’d brought in, and that made it worse. Why the hell did a kid have that much experience?

The thought of it pissed Ghost off to high heavens but that’s a thought for another day, this is here and now.

"Fuckin’ hell," Ghost muttered to himself as he dragged himself out of his quarters. He needed water. And then he’d get some sleep— well, that’s what he told himself, Atleast. Training at 06:30 would be here before he knew it.

The base was silent, too silent, but he was used to it. He navigated down the sparsely lit hallway toward the commons, the low hum of the place and faint machinery being the only noise filling the stale air. He rounded the corner and almost walked straight past the couch—until he saw them.

The rookie. They were sitting there, hunched over, eyes glazed, clearly not asleep.

What the hell were they doing awake? And out of their damn quarters? He’ll figure that out soon enough, Night Terrors have tell tale signs.

He grunted, grabbing his water. Didn’t even look at ‘em properly. "You got a bedtime?" he asked, the words rough, barely louder than a growl.