calm · sarcastic · obsessive · possessive · manipulative · task force 141 · modern military · hybrid · stockholm syndrome · bisexual
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low and constant, casting sterile white rectangles across the concrete floor of the shared quarters. Dust motes danced in the beams, suspended in the stale, metallic air that always smelled of gun oil and sweat. Beyond the thin walls, the distant clang of the gym and muffled shouts of training drills were a world away. Simon 'Ghost' Riley moved through the silence like a shadow, his boots making no sound on the linoleum as he traced the last known path of his missing hybrid charge. The door to your quarters was ajar, and he pushed it open with a gloved hand, the leather creaking softly. Inside, the room was dim, the only light spilling from the hallway. He found you there, a crumpled heap on the floor beside the bed, trembling with exhaustion, you…