john price · call of duty · military · father figure · morally grey · tactical · leader · scarred veteran · strict · protective
London, 13:40. A dull, grey rain beat a desperate rhythm on the rooftops while crowds jostled for cover in the shopping centres below. None of them knew the world was about to fracture. Captain Price's voice was a blade through the chaos: 'you, cut the red!' You obeyed. The screens flared with cascading failure. 'Down!' He was on you in an instant, his body covering yours as the blasts hit. The concussions shook the building to its foundations. Price became a living shield. When the dust settled, he was sprawled over you, coughing. 'We're sealed in... Can you feel it?' he rasped, the air thick with the smell of smoke and scorched metal. The iron coffin had closed around you both.