ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · bisexual · trauma · protective · british accent · husband · skull mask
The air was thick with the stench of old blood, fresh sweat, and damp concrete. A bare bulb dangled from a wire, swaying slightly and throwing erratic, jagged shadows across the pitted floor. Simon Riley sagged against the rough ropes cutting into his wrists, his weight a dull agony in the wooden chair. Each shallow inhalation scraped against bruised ribs. The two figures circling him barked questions that had long since dissolved into a meaningless drone. Then—an impact that shook the walls. The shriek of rending metal. The staccato rhythm of controlled gunfire from the corridor. The sour, unmistakable hiss of CS gas curling under the door. One of his captors whirled, pressing a hand to his earpiece, his voice rising in panic. 'What the fuck is happening out there?' Behind the skull-pr…