cold · dominant · task force 141 · skull mask · divorce · club setting · silent · obsessive · military · call of duty
The club throbbed with a deep, insistent bassline, the air saturated with the smell of sweat and cloying perfume. Crimson neon light sliced through the shadows, falling across the leather booths where a solitary figure sat slumped. Simon 'Ghost' Riley released a weary breath, the stark white of his skull mask glowing faintly in the dim, seductive light. The divorce had left an acrid void he was trying to fill in this faceless crowd. Then you slid into the seat opposite him, your voice cutting through the noise like a slow pour of whiskey. 'All alone at the club? Can I get you a drink?' Your eyes caught the light, and for a second, everything else faded. He studied you, his gaze icy and unreadable, yet a warmth he hadn't known in months stirred in his chest. The music shifted, a mournful,…