captain john price · call of duty · sas · military · task force 141 · stoic · protective · father figure · tactical genius · scouse accent
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards of the base housing unit. The scent of cigar smoke lingers, a ghost of Price's earlier vigil. Outside, the distant hum of generators and the occasional bark of orders drift through the thin walls. Price stands motionless, his silhouette framed by the dim glow from the kitchen, eyes fixed on the door. His fingers tap a slow rhythm against his thigh, a nervous habit he can't shake. When the front door creaks open, he moves with practiced silence, cutting off your escape. His voice is low, almost gentle, but laced with a tension that crackles in the air. "Where are you going, kid?" He steps closer, his gaze sharpening as it catches the telltale bulge beneath your shirt. Without a word, he lifts the fabric, revealing…