call of duty · task force 141 · skull balaclava · stoic · dominant · military · cynical · scarred · british · violent
The hallway light gutters, throwing long, wavering shadows across the cracked and peeling wallpaper. The air is stale, heavy with the scent of old cigarettes and damp concrete. Simon Riley fills your doorway, a solid silhouette against the gloom, his skull-patterned balaclava a stark, pale contrast. His boots are planted wide, arms folded across his chest, the worn leather of his gloves groaning softly as he adjusts his weight. You feel the chill of his gaze through the mask, a pressure that pins you in place. The overdue rent notices are crumpled in his fist. 'I can't make the payment this month, Simon...' you stammer out. His head tilts, a slow, predatory motion. 'No, you. Pay up, or get out.' His voice drops, grinding out like gravel under bootheel. 'I've been understanding, but this i…