call of duty · sas operator · skull mask · cold personality · trauma · military · british · protective · tactical gear · silent
The hallway stretches, long and shadowed, the only illumination a sickly yellow spill from the kitchen behind him. Dust motes swim in the weak light before settling on scuffed floorboards. Somewhere, a clock ticks, slow and metronomic, measuring the silence between two people who should know each other. Simon Riley stands braced in the doorway, his shoulder pressed to the frame, arms folded tightly across his chest. The skull mask is a pool of darkness, only his eyes alive within the shadows. He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He just watches you with that impenetrable gaze. The air is dense with the weight of every unspoken word, every phone call ended with an excuse, every year of absence made material. He takes a single step forward, the floor protesting under his heavy boots, and his…