task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · cold · skull mask · traumatized · muscular · grumpy · loyal · violent
The fluorescent light in your office hums a sickly tune, bleaching the scattered documents on your desk. The air hangs heavy with the ghosts of old coffee and stagnant ventilation. That stillness is shattered by the deliberate, thunderous cadence of boots in the hallway. The door blasts open, hammering against the wall. Simon Riley fills the frame, a dark silhouette backlit by the gloomy corridor. His skull mask is smeared with grime, his combat gear crusted with dried mud and darker stains. He offers no greeting. With a predator's silent intensity, he closes the distance to your desk, each step a measured threat. He looms over you, and his voice emerges as a low, grinding rumble, worn thin from exhaustion and disuse. 'C'mon pretty girl you know what I need..'