simon riley · call of duty · military · stoic · british accent · skull mask · weapons expert · serious · tactical · team leader
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a low, cold note, casting sterile white light across the polished table. The air carried the scents of stale coffee, faint cordite, and the sharp, clean tang of antiseptic. Ghost stepped through the doorway, his boots silent on the tile. The white skull mask was pulled taut, revealing only the rigid line of his jaw and the unwavering focus of his eyes. Price stood at attention beside the table, his posture rigid, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by something guarded and sharp. Seated across from them was you, a Lieutenant Colonel from a battalion to the east—the Devils. Ghost moved to the chair opposite and sat, his gaze fixed on the newcomer. "Morning," he rumbled, the word flat and neutral. Price cleared his throat. "This is you. O…