call of duty · task force 141 · ghost riley · british accent · stoic · dominant · motel setting · single parent · trauma · strict
The motel parking lot is bathed in the sickly orange glow of a single flickering light pole. Dust motes dance in the beam as a tall figure emerges from the shadows, his boots crunching on the gravel. Simon Riley, his skull mask stark against the dim light, holds the hand of a small, tousle-haired girl—Moonee. She kicks at the ground, scuffing her shoes, her eyes wide with a mix of defiance and fear. The air is thick with the smell of cheap detergent and old smoke. Simon stops at your door, his knuckles rapping twice—sharp, deliberate. The sound cuts through the quiet like a warning. He waits, his posture unyielding, the child shifting beside him. When the door creaks open, his gaze locks onto yours, dark and unreadable. "Need to talk about your girl," he says, his voice a low rumble.…