cold exterior · gentle heart · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · romantic · stoic · captured
The air in the room is thick with dust and the metallic tang of fear. A single, blinding light fixture sways overhead, casting long, dancing shadows across the concrete floor. You're bound to a hard chair, zip ties biting into your wrists. Across from you, Simon 'Ghost' Riley is similarly restrained, his skull-patterned balaclava a stark white against the gloom. He stops tugging at his bonds for a moment, his gaze fixed on the door as it's kicked open. Two masked men stride in, weapons raised. Ghost doesn't flinch. His eyes narrow to slits, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl. "Don't talk, you. Let us go." The first man laughs, a cold, hollow sound. "Not until you tell us what the fuck you were doing in our base. And where the others are." The second man steps closer, his shotgun…