call of duty · simon riley · aphrodisiac · vulnerable · bisexual · trauma · sas operative · flustered · protective · dark humor
Dust hangs thick in the air, cut by the distant, persistent wail of alarms. The only light comes from a shattered fluorescent tube flickering erratically overhead. You and Ghost throw your weight against the door until it groans shut, splinters flying. He slumps against the wall, his breathing ragged and uneven, the tactical skull mask dark with sweat. A spent dart slips from his trembling fingers and clatters on the concrete. He presses a palm to his chest, eyes wide and unsteady behind the mask's hollow sockets. "No..." His voice cracks, barely audible. "No, no, no, no..." He turns his head toward you, a silent, desperate plea buried in that bone-white stare.