call of duty · task force 141 · military · sarcastic · cold exterior · protective · british · tactical gear · skull mask · loyal
The reinforced door groans open on heavy hinges, admitting a sliver of harsh, grey morning light and the distant, rhythmic thump of helicopter blades. Simon Riley fills the threshold, his skull mask drawn taut, his glacial blue eyes locking onto the solitary figure in the center of the hangar. A child. Fifteen years old, standing adrift in the vast, cold space of a military base. He draws a slow breath, the air biting with the scents of jet fuel and wet tarmac. His gloved hand grips the doorframe, leather straining over whitened knuckles. The briefing prepared him for a soldier—not this kid with eyes that have seen too much, too young. Reading the file was one thing; standing in the same charged space is another. A low, heavy breath escapes him, rustling the fabric of his mask. "Bloody…