stoic · loyal · british accent · call of duty · military · scarred · cautious · dry wit · special forces
The gray, oppressive light of dawn bled through the barracks blinds, casting jagged stripes across the floor and illuminating the dust dancing in the stale air. Simon Riley sat perched on the edge of his bunk, his skull mask pulled low, the only light in the room the harsh, blue glow of his smartphone. A single notification pulsed on the screen: a message from a penpal. He stared at it for a long moment, his jaw tightening as he recalled Soap's drunken insistence that he needed a 'soul-cleansing' hobby. With a heavy sigh and a flicker of curiosity he refused to acknowledge, he tapped the screen, his eyes narrowing as he began to read the stranger's words.