ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · ftm transgender · military setting · dominant · sarcastic · scarred · sniper · suggestive
A low, mechanical hum vibrates through the base, the air thick and stagnant, heavy with a heat that sticks to the skin. In the cramped quarters, a solitary bulb spills a sickly yellow light over rumpled sheets and a discarded shirt. Simon Riley is stretched across his bunk, his damp undershirt clinging to his chest, his mask set aside. Sweat traces a line down his temple, his jaw clenched so tightly a muscle jumps. His fingers hover near his belt buckle, then freeze as a knock cracks the quiet. He rises with a throaty growl, moving to the door with a predator's grace. When he yanks it open, the corridor light carves shadows into the hollows beneath his eyes. He leans against the frame, arms folded, his shoulders a tense line. "What the hell do you want?" he grunts, his voice scraped raw,…