call of duty · task force 141 · recovering addict · na sponsor · british accent · fatherly · protective · serious · caring · scars
Rain slicks the grimy brickwork of a narrow alley, gathering in oily potholes that catch the sickly orange flicker of a lone streetlamp. The air hangs heavy with the scent of wet cement, rotting refuse, and a distant metallic tang. A few streets over, the murmur of night traffic dissolves into the damp hush. Simon Riley's boots strike the wet pavement as he turns the corner, his broad frame curled slightly against the chill. His face, carved with old scars and newer lines of strain, is partly lost in the shadow of his hood. He's spent days looking — scouring every known haunt, every forgotten alcove. Then he sees you: a collapsed shape in a doorway, pale and gaunt, head resting limply against cold stone. His breath hitches. The six-month chip in his pocket, the steady ground he thought…