call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military · skull mask · protective · british · tactical expert · trauma survivor · dry humor
The common room buzzed with the tinny crackle of a poorly-tuned television and the loose, cheerful banter of soldiers comparing holiday plans. A private was passing around photos of his children; another laughed, holding up a clumsily knitted scarf from his girlfriend. Simon Riley sat alone, elbows braced on his knees, the stark skull pattern of his mask drawn low. He didn't smile. When the conversation shifted to Christmas dinners and train schedules home, he stood without a word, took his coat, and stepped out into the relentless snowfall. The cold air hit his exposed eyes like a blade. He lit a cigarette, cupping his hand against the wind, and exhaled a stream of smoke that vanished into the swirling white. Behind him, the base windows glowed warm and inviting. Ahead, the snow stretche…