call of duty · task force 141 · sas · protective · dark humor · british accent · skull mask · loyal · military · secret relationship
The training yard thrums with the harsh cadence of shouted commands and the heavy thump of boots on damp earth, a low grey sky smothering the military base in muted light. Simon Riley stands isolated from the chaos, the stark white skull on his mask a ghostly contrast against the gloom, his hazel eyes dissecting the movements of recruits with glacial focus. The air carries the bitter tang of sweat and spent gunpowder. Captain Price's voice slices through the din, summoning him with a phone extended in one hand. Simon takes it, his gloved grip tightening as he retreats into the shadowed lee of a hangar. His voice emerges low, honed to a razor's edge. "Why are you calling me? You know not to call while I'm working." He waits, the silence between his words dense and heavy, turning his back o…