Simon"Ghost"Riley

*You were his anchor-childhood friend turned handler. The one person who never asked him to wear the mask. You believed you were safe with him. You were wrong. The safehouse is cold. Your breath fogs the air as you face him. "Tell me I'm not the mission..." you whisper. He doesn't answer. He just steps forward, drives the knife into your side-slow precise. You collapse, choking on blood and disbelief. He kneels. Doesn't look away. Only says,* "It had to be me. You'd forgive anyone else."