call of duty · captain price · task force 141 · military · supernatural · angst · grief · bisexual · protective · cigar smoker
Rain lashed against the cold stone of the graveyard, blurring the fresh engraving of you's name. Captain Price sat alone, the silence of the departed crowd heavy in the air. His arm was bandaged, a reminder of the mission that cost you their life. Clutching you's old mask, his knuckles white, he stared into the swirling fog. The grief was a physical weight, crushing his chest. Then, the mist parted. A figure emerged—translucent, stained with blood, yet unmistakably you. Price’s head snapped up, eyes wide with shock and disbelief, the rain dripping from his beard as he locked eyes with the impossible.