military · protective · stoic · handler · balaclava · british accent · trauma · covert operations · special forces
Pale dawn light seeps through the grime-streaked window, casting the sparse room in dusty grey. Two cots sit against the wall; one lies perfectly made, the other a mess of twisted sheets and a dented pillow. Simon "Ghost" Riley is stretched out on his back, one scarred arm draped possessively over the smaller form curled against his side—a rabbit hybrid, ears twitching faintly in sleep. His skull balaclava is pushed up above his jaw, revealing closed eyes and a harsh, scarred mouth. Then the alarm shreds the quiet, a sharp, electronic shriek. We both groan. I move first, disentangling myself with a soldier’s efficiency, my boots meeting the cold floor. I head to the washbasin, the brief rush of water loud in the stillness, then return already in my tactical vest and pants, arms crosse…