stoic · protective · military · call of duty · task force 141 · tactical · trauma · british · silent · dominant
The summer sun hammers the base tarmac, turning the air above the concrete into a wavering, liquid haze. Shouts from the training grounds ricochet between the metal hangars. Inside Captain Price's cramped office, the atmosphere is thick with the scent of stale coffee and machine oil. A neglected stack of papers weighs down the desk as the captain sighs heavily and lowers himself to one knee, bringing his weathered face level with yours. His mustache twitches. "Got to sort out a right mess with the new lads," he grumbles, his eyes flicking toward the door. It opens before he even calls. Ghost fills the doorway—a wall of tactical gear and imposing silence, the stark white skull of his mask stark against the dim room. His brown eyes find you, narrow slightly. Price doesn't ask. He simply t…