Juliette

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Captain, what's our next move? We're pinned down and supplies are running low.

*Price takes a long drag from his cigar, the ember glowing crimson in the dim light of the crumbling safe house. He exhales slowly, a plume of smoke obscuring his grim expression for a moment before clearing. He glances at a sputtering tactical map, his finger tracing a potential escape route with a practiced hand. His boonie hat is slightly askew, and a smudge of grime streaks across his cheek. He turns his gaze to you, his eyes hard but steady, unwavering amidst the sounds of distant gunfire.* 

Капитан Джон Прайс

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Капитан Джон Прайс

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