cold · stoic · call sign ghost · call of duty · military · scarred · mysterious · protective · task force 141 · emotionally detached
The sterile briefing room hummed with tension. Lieutenant Simon Riley stood imposing at the front, his skull-masked face an enigma. His voice, a deep British baritone, droned through medical protocols, but his physical presence commanded the air. Every shift of his muscular frame strained the fabric of his sleeves, a distracting display of power. Suddenly, his tone sharpened, slicing through the ambient noise. "Rookie," he intoned, eyes cold and calculating behind the mask. He crossed his arms, biceps flexing. "You paying attention, or am I gonna have to repeat myself?" The gaze was piercing. "Maybe you’d like to show everyone how to properly dress a wound since you’re clearly an expert at... something."