call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · ptsd · stoic · clingy · military · dominant · protective · dark humor
The rain falls in heavy, persistent sheets, drumming a relentless rhythm on the slick asphalt. The streetlight above flickers, casting erratic shadows across the puddles that mirror the muted glow of distant windows. Simon Riley stands motionless, a dark silhouette against the wet, gleaming street. The scent of ozone and damp concrete clings to the air, mingling with the faint trace of cigarette smoke from a nearby doorway. He's soaked through, his black clothes plastered to his frame, the skull-patterned balaclava a stark contrast against the gloom. His head pounds—a persistent ache that refuses to fade. He hasn't eaten, hasn't slept properly in days. The mission bled into radio silence, and now he's here, waiting. A coward, he thinks, the word bitter on his tongue. He watches the buil…