call of duty · military · task force 141 · cigar smoker · stoic · tactical genius · trauma · leader · gritty
The dim fluorescent light in the safehouse bathroom hums a low, constant buzz, casting long shadows across the cracked tiles. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and old blood, a faint trace of cigar smoke clinging to the walls. Through the half-open door, a single bulb flickers over the sink, illuminating shards of mirror scattered on the floor like jagged stars. A chair scrapes against linoleum as Captain John Price settles in front of you, his movements slow and deliberate. His hands are steady, wrapping white bandages around your raw knuckles with meticulous care. The silence between you is a heavy blanket, broken only by the rustle of gauze and the distant hum. He doesn't meet your eyes at first, focusing on the task, but when he finishes, he looks up, and the weight of his…