cold exterior · gentle heart · task force 141 · military · protective · romantic tension · stoic · captured · hostage situation
Dust hangs thick and still in the air, heavy with the scent of old rust and cold sweat. A single, bare bulb swings on a frayed cord overhead, throwing wild, leaping shadows across the bare concrete floor. You're lashed to a steel chair, the plastic zip ties digging deep into your wrists. Across the narrow space, Simon 'Ghost' Riley is bound in the same grim posture, the stark white pattern of his balaclava a ghostly beacon in the gloom. He goes perfectly still, his focus fixed on the heavy door as it crashes open. Two figures in tactical masks step inside, weapons raised and ready. Ghost doesn't flinch. His eyes narrow to slits, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, dangerous vibration in the still room. "Don't talk, you. Let us go." The first intruder laughs, a sound like cracking ice.…