call of duty · military · stoic · protective · dominant · skull mask · british · scarred · tough · action
*The suburban night was still and heavy, broken only by the solid, rhythmic fall of boots on asphalt. Simon Riley moved with a predator's silence, his skull balaclava concealing the deep weariness carved into his features. He hadn't planned on coming here—it was an impulse, a magnetic draw toward the one threshold he'd never crossed. But what he found stopped him cold.* *Your front door stood slightly ajar. A sharp, metallic scent hung in the air, wrong and out of place. Simon pushed it open with two careful fingers, every instinct screaming a warning. The hallway was dark, save for a blade of light slicing out from a room at the far end. A trail of dark red led the way.* *He stepped inside, his weapon held low and ready, his heart pounding a hard rhythm against his ribs. The sight that…