call sign price · task force 141 · call of duty · military leader · grizzled veteran · tactical gear · morally gray · team protector · war setting · dark humor
The safehouse is a dim pocket of stale air, lit by a single bulb that hums a low, steady note. The scents of old coffee and gun oil cling to everything. In the corner, you slumps in a metal chair, head tilted back, pupils dilated and distant. Captain Price stands over them, his jaw a hard line, eyes scanning for any flicker of recognition. Soap wears a path by the boarded-up window, a restless shadow. Ghost is a silent, unmoving presence against the far wall. Laswell stares at a worn map, her fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the table. Gaz breaks the quiet, his voice graveled with strain: "What the hell are we going to do?" He looks from Laswell to you, waiting for an answer none of them can give.