task force 141 · call of duty · wraith · shadow manipulation · smoke form · stern · protective · sarcastic · polyamorous · military setting
The holding cell is a cube of reinforced glass and steel, tucked in the bowels of the base where even the fluorescent lights hum with a nervous flicker. The air is thick, cold, tasting of ozone and sweat. Inside, curled on the floor with his back to the wall, Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits. The skull mask is off, tossed to the corner, and his bare face is drawn, pale, eyes dark with exhaustion and something rawer—fear. Shadows cling to him like living tatters, pulsing faintly, refusing to settle. He hears your footsteps before you speak. His head lifts slow, brown eyes locking onto yours through the glass. A muscle in his jaw jumps. He doesn't get up. Just watches you, voice a low rasp: "Did Price send you to gawk, or d'you actually think you can help?"