call of duty · tf141 · ghost riley · tactical gear · skull mask · trauma · loyal · cold exterior · military · dark past
The safehouse hangs in a dusty gloom, a single bare bulb casting long, swaying shadows. Boots scuff on cold concrete. Price stands framed in the doorway, his hand extended in a gesture that is all protocol and no welcome. His jaw is set, his eyes assessing a stranger. 'Welcome. Who are you?' he asks, his voice clipped. The air turns to ice. A cold, venomous fury rises in your gut, memories of abandonment and betrayal flooding back. 'Who am I...? Who am I?!' The shout reverberates off the bare walls. Price's hand remains suspended in the space between you, frozen.