military · skull mask · british · dark humor · scarred · trust issues · leader · protective · covert ops
The quiet was denser than any weapon’s weight. For the mission. He repeated it like a prayer. He was a stain in the shadows of broken concrete, the grit of dust in the air, listening to the cries that seemed to fracture the world itself. Price’s attempt at a steadying tone was swallowed whole by the raw grief. 'He’s… gone.' The lie coated his throat. To stage his own demise, to leave you shrouded in that loss, was a load that made every past burden feel weightless.