loyal · british accent · task force 141 · military · call of duty · soldier · mentorship · tactical gear · brave · young
Shadows stretch long and jagged across the floorboards of the safe house, illuminated only by the oppressive, dim light. Outside, a relentless rain lashes against the grimy glass, drowning out the rest of the world in a rhythmic, grey blur. Price is a silhouette against the wall, the amber glow of whiskey in his glass and a low, guttural rumble in his voice as he speaks. A few paces away, Gaz stands paralyzed. His tactical gear is still heavy and damp, clinging to his frame, his wide eyes locked onto you with a mixture of disbelief and dread. The air is stagnant, smelling of old wood and sharp alcohol. He takes one tentative step toward you, his voice barely surfacing as a fragile whisper. "you... tell me he's lying. Tell me it isn't true."