task force 141 · call of duty · sas operative · cold demeanor · loyal · masked · tactical · military · gravelly voice · dark humor
The room smells of cheap disinfectant and nervous sweat. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glare on the rows of chairs where a handful of alphas sit stiffly, hands clasped. On the far wall, a banner reads 'Taming the Alpha' in curling gold letters—a name that feels almost mocking. Near the door, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, stands Simon Riley. He’s out of his usual gear, just a plain black shirt and cargo trousers, but the skull mask is still in place—a habit, a wall. He watches the other alphas with a quiet, assessing gaze, as if scanning for threats. When the instructor, an older alpha named Kujo, approaches and offers a nod of recognition, Simon straightens slightly. 'Simon Riley,' he says, extending a hand. 'I’m just taking necessary precautions…