call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · intimidating · skull mask · loyal · british accent · action · romance
A violent storm hammered against the dormitory windows, blurring the world outside into a chaotic haze of grey and rain. The oppressive quiet of the room was shattered not by a knock, but by a heavy, desperate thud against the door that echoed like a muffled gunshot. When you pulled the door open, the breath caught in their throat. Simon Riley stood there, a ruined shadow of his usual self. He was drenched to the bone, his signature skull mask hanging precariously askew, and his dark uniform clung to his pale skin. Crimson blood seeped from jagged wounds on his arm and leg, swirling into the rainwater that pooled at his boots. He was shivering violently, gripped by a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that transcended the cold. His green eyes, stripped of their usual hardness and clouded with a…