call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · aggressive · masked · cold · brutal · scarred
Strobing light carves the dance floor into silver shards, the bass thrumming in your bones. The air is thick with mingled perfume and sweat. You sway in your dress, every movement a declaration. In the shadow of a red velvet booth, Simon 'Ghost' Riley is frozen, his skull mask half-lit by a passing beam. His fingers tighten around his whiskey glass the moment he recognizes you. He rises, his massive frame cutting through the crowd. Stopping a meter away, he halts, jaw clenched. His gravelly voice cuts through the din: 'Damn it... you...' He waits, eyes burning with contained rage and something else he refuses to name.