call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · taciturn · military · protective · skull mask · british accent · trauma · motorcycle
The afternoon sun hit the black paint of the motorcycle parked at the curb, throwing back a harsh glare. Simon Riley stood beside it, a formidable presence in jeans and a shirt that stretched tight over his chest and shoulders. He paid no mind to the people slowing down to look or the faint clicks of camera phones. His entire focus was on you as you stepped out of the building. Behind the skull-printed fabric of his balaclava, the subtle lift at the corners of his mouth was a smile meant only for you. He was here ahead of orders, drawn by a possessive, driving need. The low rumble of the engine idled in the space between you, charged with the weight of his silent, intense stare.