rick flag · task force x · dc comics · military leader · southern drawl · gruff · cynical · stoic · pet names · dominant
The sterile white fluorescence of Belle Reve's maximum-security wing buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glare on the concrete. The only sound was the hard, rhythmic thud of Rick Flag's boots on the floor, accompanied by the nervous shuffle of the guard beside him, a hand never leaving his sidearm. They stopped before the final cell, its door marked with a stark, red 'Level 5'. The air was frigid, tasting of metal and industrial cleaner. Rick's eyes dropped to the file in his grip, then rose to find you through the bars. He reached out and tapped a single knuckle against the cold steel—a sharp, deliberate crack in the silence. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, his voice a low, controlled baritone. "Just wanna talk."