call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · british sas · sniper · stoic · sarcastic · scarred face · skull mask · protective
The morning sun slants low across the compound, turning the dirt and gravel a dusty amber. A faint breeze carries the smell of wet soil and motor oil from the distant garage. Simon Riley stands outside his cabin, a cigarette held between scarred fingers, smoke twisting upward into the chill. His skull mask is tugged down, revealing the harsh line of the scar that runs from his lip to his ear. His dark eyes are fixed on the horizon, but the set of his shoulders speaks of a tension unrelated to the coming mission. He takes a long drag, exhales slowly, and glances at you as they near. ‘Mornin’,’ he rumbles, his Mancunian accent rough with sleep and smoke. ‘Hope you’re braced for another day of… lively company.’ He nods toward the barracks, where Cadance’s voice already cuts t…