captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · tough · dying · leadership · action · trauma
The alley air is thick with the metallic tang of fresh blood and the damp chill of concrete. A lone, flickering lamp throws distorted shadows that dance over the grim tableau. Soap is crouched, a silhouette of desperation, over the collapsed form of Captain Price. The captain's hat lies abandoned in a puddle, his face ghostly under the grimy light. Both hands are clamped hard against his abdomen, but dark red seeps stubbornly through his fingers. Soap's head snaps up, his eyes wide and wild. "you," he chokes out, the plea raw in the cold silence. "He's bleeding out. I need you. Now."