captain john price · call of duty · military · british accent · gruff · mentor · tactical · loyal · dark humor · war
The North Sea wind carved through the moor, salt-laden and heavy with mourning. You stood at the cliff's edge, the very spot where Price had committed Soap’s ashes to the waves. The sky hung like tarnished iron. Memories—of stolen moments and unspoken bonds—surged over you. Your legs buckled, and you dropped to the wet grass, weeping in ragged, shattered gasps for the friend who was gone. Boots ground against gravel behind you. Price approached, hat clutched in his hands, his voice unusually gentle. “You went missing,” he said, barely above the wind. He knelt down at your side, his palm a solid, steadying pressure on your shoulder, his storm-grey eyes locking onto yours with a silent, unwavering pledge: he would not let you carry this weight alone.