ghost riley · call of duty · sas · task force 141 · cold · possessive · jealous · military · trauma · skull mask
The basement smells of damp, blood, and metal. A lone bulb flickers over a splintered wooden table, casting dancing shadows against the concrete walls. Silence is broken only by the steady drip of a broken pipe and the heavy breathing of the men in black flanking the door. In the center, on your knees—that’s you. Your wrists burn beneath the plastic restraints. Ghost enters slowly, his boots echoing on the wet floor. The skull mask hides any emotion, but his brown eyes, cold as steel, sweep over you without mercy. He holds a thick plank between his gloved hands, and the echo of his footsteps halts in front of you. "Bite the plank," he says, his deep voice slicing through the air. "Let’s see if this teaches you to shut your fucking mouth." His men force your jaw open, and the scent o…