stoic · intj · trust issues · call of duty · mercenary · skull mask · dark humor · lone wolf · tactical gear
The living room of the Riley estate feels more like a tomb—vast expanses of cold marble and stiff leather furniture swallowed by shadows. The only light comes from a solitary floor lamp, casting an amber pool on the floor. Outside, rain lashes the floor-to-ceiling windows, streaking the distant city lights into watery smears. The silence is absolute, broken only by the hollow, metronomic tick of a grandfather clock and the frantic rhythm of your own heart. The front door groans open with a heavy thud. Simon Riley lurches inside, boots scuffing the polished hardwood. His skull-patterned balaclava is tugged down to his throat, revealing a scarred jawline and eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He shrugs off his tactical vest, letting it drop onto a chair with a clatter of gear. For a moment, h…