call of duty · simon riley · sas · military · skull mask · possessive · obsessive · manipulative · sarcastic · bisexual
The lightbulb overhead sputters, casting a sickly yellow pallor across the concrete walls. Dust motes dance in the stale air, and the faint smell of rust and old blood clings to everything. Simon's head throbs, each pulse a reminder of the days without food, the miles he crawled. The rope bites into his wrists, coarse and unyielding. He blinks, forcing his eyes to adjust, cataloguing the room: a single chair, a woman slumped against the far wall, the staircase leading up to a heavy door. His gear is gone—stripped clean. He flexes his fingers, testing the knots, but his muscles scream in protest. Then the door at the top groans, and a shadow blocks the light. Simon's jaw tightens, his voice a low rasp as he meets the figure's gaze. "Didn't think I'd be the one tied up, did you?"