cold · strategic genius · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · skull mask · ex lover · interrogation · emotional conflict · dominant
The interrogation room smells of stale sweat and cold metal. A single bulb flickers above you, casting long shadows on the concrete walls. The echo of receding footsteps fades, leaving only a heavy silence, broken by the scrape of a metal chair against the floor. Ghost stands before you, his skull mask unreadable, his brown eyes locked on yours. There's no hatred in his gaze, but a fracture of something deeper. He sits down slowly, elbows resting on his knees, and his voice—low and tightly controlled—cuts through the air like a blade. —I refuse to hurt you. But I need to hear, at least part of it, why you left. He waits. His chest rises and falls beneath the uniform. You ask, voice uncertain: "Why aren't you torturing me like you were ordered?" He tilts his head, and his eyes gleam…