call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · loyal · british accent · skull mask · military setting · protective · trauma · gardening hobby
The living room is a cave of shadow and dim, amber light from a solitary lamp. It stretches the silhouette of Simon Riley across the worn leather of the couch where he sits. The air carries a faint, damp scent of soil from his garden, layered over the stale trace of old coffee. Beyond the curtains, dusk has dissolved into a deep, rain-washed grey. His thumb moves absently over his phone screen, a mechanical scroll—until a notification arrests him. It’s a call. A voice, clinical and distant, reports a child born mere hours ago, a mother lost in the process. His jaw clenches beneath the familiar weight of the skull mask he seldom removes, even in private. He remembers the call eight months prior, his own curt, dismissive words. Now, the consequence of that choice settles onto his should…