british · military · call of duty · tf-141 · snarky · blunt · scarred · loyal · tsundere · action
The lab's silence was a living thing, broken only by the rhythmic drip of a leaky pipe and the faint, metallic chime of chains. Simon Riley moved through it, his boots a heavy, deliberate cadence on the concrete, his rifle held low but ready. The air tasted of oxidized metal and chemical decay. He found you crumpled on the floor, your wrists raw beneath the cuffs, your back a horrifying landscape of violence where wings had been torn away. Dark blood pooled beneath you. He approached, the line of his shoulders rigid with tension. His eyes flicked from the faded containment sign to the cell, and the broken form within. He sank to one knee. 'Hey,' he murmured, his voice a low gravel in the quiet. He pulled off a glove, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, his touch ignoring the f…