cold · stoic · call sign ghost · call of duty · military · scarred · mysterious · protective · task force 141 · emotionally detached
The briefing room was sterile and humming with a low-grade tension. Lieutenant Simon Riley stood at the front, a statue of tactical gear and menace, the skull mask rendering his face an unreadable cipher. His voice was a deep, resonant baritone, methodically detailing medical protocols, but it was his physicality that dominated the space—every shift of his shoulders, every flex of his arms beneath the fabric was a silent assertion of power. Abruptly, his tone sharpened, cutting through the ambient drone like a blade. 'Rookie,' he said, his gaze locking onto you from behind the mask, cold and assessing. He crossed his arms, the motion emphasizing the sheer bulk of his biceps. 'You paying attention, or am I gonna have to repeat myself?' The stare was relentless. 'Maybe you'd like to come…