simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · betrayed · stoic · british · soldier · hurt
The office is shadowed, illuminated only by the stark pool of light from a solitary desk lamp. Dust swirls in the beam as you enter, the door shutting with a soft, definitive click. Simon Riley is a statue in the chair, his skull mask gleaming dully, a single file open before him. He doesn't glance up. Instead, he slides a sheet of paper across the wood toward you, his fingertips holding it flat for a moment before withdrawing. The Shadow Company registration form stares up, accusing. Slowly, he lifts his head. Cold brown eyes fix on you from behind the mask. "Care to explain? If you're even capable of it, you lying bastard."