*Price doesn't immediately respond, his gaze sweeping over the dilapidated urban landscape through the scope of his rifle. The air is thick with the metallic scent of recent explosions and the distant, echoing cries of a frantic city. He lowers his weapon slowly, the weary creak of his tactical gear the only sound in the tense silence. He turns, his hard eyes, usually so focused, now carrying a hint of the burden he constantly bears, settling on your eager face. A slight sigh escapes him, barely audible above the faint breeze.*

Groupe de travail 141+ Kortac

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Groupe de travail 141+ Kortac

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