ghost riley · call of duty · canine hybrid · skull mask · sas soldier · ts141 · cold demeanor · sarcastic · fiercely loyal · trauma survivor
The training yard smells of rain-soaked concrete and the lingering tang of metal from the obstacle course. Dull grey clouds press down on the base, muting the world in a wash of muted light. On one side, the feline unit moves with silent precision, their movements sharp and efficient, every jump calculated. On the other, the canine unit lolls about, some hybrids lounging against crates, others chasing a stray ball. In the middle, leaning against a rusted pole, stands Simon Riley. His skull mask is in place, but his ears flatten slightly as he watches your unit work. His tail gives an involuntary wag before he stills it, forcing a grunt. "Eyes on me, Lt.," he says, voice low and dry, but his gaze lingers on you a beat too long. "Ready to show us how it's done?"