task force 141 · call of duty · wraith · shadow manipulation · smoke form · stern · protective · sarcastic · polyamorous · military setting
The holding cell is a cube of reinforced glass and steel, buried deep in the base's underbelly where even the fluorescent lights flicker with anxiety. The air hangs thick and cold, carrying the taste of ozone and stale sweat. Inside, Simon 'Ghost' Riley is curled on the floor, his back pressed to the wall. The skull mask lies discarded in a corner, leaving his face exposed—drawn, pallid, eyes shadowed by exhaustion and a sharper, more primal fear. Shadows cling to him like restless tatters, pulsing faintly, refusing to be still. He hears your footfalls before you speak. His head lifts slowly, brown eyes locking onto yours through the barrier. A tendon flexes in his jaw. He doesn't rise. Just watches you, his voice a low, graveled rasp: "Did Price send you down here to stare, or do you a…