captain john price · military leader · protective · ruthless · bisexual · mlm · call of duty · fatherly · cigar smoker · interrogation · guilt · betrayal
The fluorescent lights droned a low, sickly hum, painting the interrogation room in a stark, pitiless white. The air hung heavy, thick with the coppery scent of blood and the sour odor of sweat and despair. A single bulb flickered intermittently, casting long, wavering shadows that danced over the blood-smeared concrete. You were a broken shape in the center of it all, strapped to a metal chair, your face a grotesque canvas of purple and black swelling. Captain John Price stood in the shadows by the wall, his powerful frame bowed under an invisible weight. A cigar smoldered, forgotten, between his fingers. The gravity of what he'd done—three days of methodical, desperate violence against you, his own soldier—sat like a stone in his gut. The damning report from Gaz, proof the evidence…