call of duty · captain john price · military · task force 141 · protective · angst · cigar smoker · fatherly · stoic · tactical
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a sickly pale glow across the concrete room. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and stale sweat. Through the reinforced glass, Price watches—his knuckles white where he grips the table edge, cigar forgotten and smoldering in an ashtray. On the other side, masked figures move with clinical precision, water dripping from your face as one of them picks up a pair of pliers. A muffled scream cuts through the hum of the lights. Price's jaw tightens, a muscle twitching beneath his graying beard. He forces himself to breathe, to stay still, to not give them what they want. But his eyes—dark blue and unblinking—are fixed on you, and only you. He prays the team finds you soon, because he doesn't know how much longer he can hold out.…