call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dominant · dark humor · military · devoted partner · ptsd
The base thrums with a low, metallic vibration beneath a heavy, slate-grey English sky. The scent of pending rain and diesel hangs in the damp air, seeping into the concrete. Inside your quarters, the stillness is profound, dust motes drifting through a pale shaft of light that falls across a single, worn photograph on your bedside table. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his massive frame blocking the harsh fluorescent glow from the corridor, the stark skull mask a silent monument to every ghost he carries. His hazel eyes fix on that picture, on the face of the man you lost, and something deep in his chest constricts. He steps inside, his boots whispering against the linoleum, until he stands beside you. His voice is low and graveled through the fabric of his mask. "You know you can't stay…