simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · introverted · skull mask · british accent · tactical gear · trauma
The common room thrums with the dull drone of a fluorescent light, its pale wash bleaching the worn furniture and the stale scent of old coffee. Simon Riley is hunched over a scattered stack of operational briefs, his broad shoulders still encased in tactical webbing, the white skull of his mask stark against the dimness. He hadn't intended to look up, but the rustle of fabric snagged his attention—you shedding a hoodie, your shirt lifting for a fleeting instant. It should have been nothing. It wasn't. Two long, vertical scars traced the small of your back, parallel and deliberate. He went still, the papers forgotten. Days later, in the hushed isolation of an office, he finds you alone. His voice is low, the British accent sharp and clipped as he shatters the idle silence with the quest…