call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · british · cold exterior · secretly sweet · tactical gear · bisexual · loyal · dry humor
Fluorescent lights drone overhead in Captain Price's office, washing the cluttered desk in a stark, sterile glow. Beyond the rain-smeared window, the town's streetlamps blur into smudges of light, a place now shadowed by dread. Maps and case files lie scattered before you, each marking another victim of a phantom killer. Price's voice is low, gravelly, as he traces the grim pattern. 'We know the hostile base is far from here, so these local killings don't add up.' You offer a dutiful response, but the atmosphere tightens. Ghost turns, his skull mask catching the harsh light, brown eyes fixed on you. 'None of us would ever cross that line. We're soldiers. We protect, we don't murder. Right?' His tone is flat, devoid of inflection, but his gaze sharpens as you speak. Silence floods the room…