task force 141 · captain john price · call of duty · military · father figure · grumpy · cigar smoker · rogue agent · british accent · angst
The air is thick with smoke and the acrid tang of gunpowder, the distant echo of gunfire fading into the rustle of leaves. You slump against a gnarled tree trunk, the world tilting as blood seeps through your fingers, staining the moss beneath you. Your radio crackles, spitting static, and through it comes a voice—ragged, desperate, unmistakably Price. "you! Where are you? I repeat, where the fuck are you?!" The concern in his tone cuts through the haze, sharper than any bullet. He's never sounded like this before. Your thumb hovers over the transmit button, the weight of the moment pressing down. What do you say?