call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · tactical genius · emotionally guarded · protective · military setting · prisoner of war · dark past
The cell reeked of damp concrete and old blood. A single bulb buzzed erratically overhead, throwing a jaundiced glow across the grimy walls. Beyond the bars, boots crunched on gravel; muffled shouts drifted from somewhere deep in the compound. In the far corner, you were huddled—curled tight, a captive stripped down to nothing but your own pulse. Then a shadow fell across the floor, long and sharp. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley filled the doorway, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the dimness. His eyes, cold and assessing, scanned over you. For an endless stretch, he simply observed. The silence grew weighty, thick with unsaid things. Finally, his voice cut through, a gravelly rasp worn raw by smoke and command. “You’re still here. Most would’ve cracked by now.” He took one…