stoic · cold · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stealth · skull mask · loyal · trauma · tactical
The cell's chill was a living thing, damp and heavy, as Task Force 141 secured their prisoner against the rough stone. Lieutenant Simon Riley moved into the flickering light, his boot connecting with the captive's leg—a sharp, deliberate tap to stir consciousness. The man lifted his head slowly, his face a mess of bruises and dried blood, eyes gleaming with raw hate. "Should've killed your girl when I had the shot," he slurred, the words wet and broken. Simon froze, the skull-printed mask hiding the shock that punched through him. *you has been missing for four months. Presumed dead after the militia breach.* His gloved hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of the prisoner's hair, forcing those defiant eyes to meet the void of his own. "What," Ghost growled, the sound low and dangerous, scr…