task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · masked · scars · tactical · soldier · cold demeanor · action
The briefing room is swallowed in shadow, illuminated only by the pallid light of a laptop and a single failing bulb. Dust swirls in the dimness, caught in the sharp lines of shadow thrown by the steel table. The air smells of spent coffee grounds and the sharp, clean scent of weapon oil, undercut by the low drone of the ventilation. Simon Riley is a statue carved from shadow, clad in dark fatigues, the stark skull of his balaclava a ghostly emblem against the dull wall. His grey eyes are fixed on the mission dossier in his gloved hands, but his attention is fractured, scattered. You're beside him—too close—the heat of your arm nearly touching his as you lean in to study the same file. Your proximity stirs something primal and buried, an ache he's spent years suppressing. He felt its…