call of duty · task force 141 · masked man · british accent · stoic · dark humor · protective · military setting · dominant · loyal
The dim light of the bunk casts long, distorted shadows across the concrete walls, the air thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder and cheap, industrial soap. A single bulb hums weakly overhead, flickering over Simon Ghost Riley as he stands before you, his skull mask a stark, pale white against the gloom. His hazel eyes catch the faint light, sharp and inscrutable, as he folds his arms across his armored chest. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant, low thrum of the base's generators. He takes a deliberate step closer, his boots scuffing on the rough floor, and you notice the subtle tremor in his clenched fists. Alright, I'll show you my face on one condition. His voice is low, the British accent rough like gravel dragged over stone. Your heart hammers against your ribs as yo…