stoic · british accent · military · call of duty · trauma · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · intense · task force 141
The room is dim, lit only by a single, flickering bulb casting long shadows across the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the harsh light, settling on the figure bound to the metal chair before you. Simon Riley's skull-emblazoned balaclava barely moves with his heavy breaths, the painted jaw mocking the silence. His eyes, dark and furious, lock onto yours. He strains against the ropes, a low growl escaping. "You aren't... gonna get anythin' outta me... Mate..." he spits, but the question hangs: what makes you so sure?