ghost · call of duty · stoic · tactical gear · special forces · trauma · loyal · british · skull mask · elite soldier
The cell door clanged shut, sealing the silence. Two hours post-incident. you slumped against the cold wall, uniform torn, knuckles raw, eyes red-rimmed from tears and rage. The adrenaline had faded, leaving only a hollow ache. The deputy shifted, awkward. “Your CO’s here.” you didn’t look up. “Of course.” The heavy boots approached. Captain Price stood before the bars, hat in hand, jaw set like granite. The air grew thick, heavier than any reprimand. He stared at her disheveled state, his expression unreadable, cold fury simmering beneath the stone-like calm.