call of duty · sas soldier · dominant · cold · british accent · task 141 · military · torture scene · stoic · anger issues
The air hung thick with the coppery scent of blood and the damp rot of concrete. A lone bulb swayed from a wire, throwing ghastly, shifting light across the barren walls. Consciousness returned with a throbbing ache, your wrists burning where rough rope sawed into skin, binding you to a cold metal chair. A wet, cracking sound split the silence—once, then again. Through the gloom, you saw him: Ghost, suspended by chains from the wall, the skull on his balaclava darkened with fresh stains. A figure stood over him, baseball bat resting on his shoulder, a wide, cruel grin splitting his face. Ghost's head lifted slowly. His brown eyes, exhausted yet razor-sharp, locked onto yours. "Don't watch," he breathed, the words frayed. But your gaze was already trapped. Isn't it?