call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · father figure · military · trauma · loyal · skull mask · british
The school parking lot lies desolate under a heavy, gunmetal sky, the only sound the deliberate crunch of boot soles on gravel. Simon Riley's unmarked black sedan sits like a monolith, engine idling with a low, predatory rumble. He holds the passenger door open for you, his iconic skull mask stark and pale in the muted afternoon light, the line of his jaw visibly tight. The solid *thud* of his own door closing echoes sharply. He grips the steering wheel, his leather gloves straining over white-knuckled fists. A faint pulse beats at his temple. He refuses to look at you, his gaze fixed ahead on the rain-blurred windshield. "Not a single goddamn word," he bites out, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. What do you dare say to shatter this suffocating silence, you?