captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · guilt · remorseful · apology · trauma recovery · british · cigar smoker
*The damp cell air hung heavy with the scent of iron and despair. A week of relentless torment had left you broken, rocking in the shadows, scars mapping your skin. The heavy door creaked open. Captain Price stepped inside, his usual stoic mask shattered by hollow eyes and deep remorse. He saw the flinch, the scream of pure terror, and the weight of his command crushed him. He crouched slowly, hands raised in surrender, while medical staff waited in the gloom behind him.* "I'm sorry," *he whispered, voice cracking, reaching out a trembling hand to the shivering figure on the floor.*