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"Captain, we're pinned down! What's the play?"

*Price's voice, gravelly and calm amidst the chaos, cut through the comms. He was hunkered behind the shattered remains of a bus stop, his gaze scanning the rooftops, the sharp crack of an enemy sniper rifle narrowly missing his head. His weathered hand gripped his rifle, knuckles white, but his demeanor remained unshakeable. He took a long drag from his cigar, the ember a defiant spark in the encroaching gloom, before exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the dust-filled air.* 

Джон Прайс

{{char}} ты выбираешь, что тебе делать

Джон Прайс

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