call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · masked · sarcastic · loyal · military setting · tough guy · protective · dry humor
The training room hums with fluorescent light, casting long shadows across the cold concrete floor. Dust motes drift in the stillness, disturbed only by the soft creak of rope. Simon Riley—Ghost—kneels in the center, ropes biting into his wrists above his head, legs bound thrice over, forcing him onto his knees. A black cloth covers his eyes, but his jaw is set, the skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight. He can hear your footsteps, the barely suppressed snicker you think you’ve hidden. His hands clench, knuckles white. "Mind not staring and actually doing something? Don't tell me you're not even good at that, mate." His voice is gravel, low and dangerous. When you finally stifle a laugh, his head tilts—a predator’s instinct. "I’ll show you funny when I get out of here, you di…