john price · call of duty · sas captain · dominant · protective · british accent · military · cuddly · rough around the edges · task force 141
The breach was over, leaving only the ringing silence and the stench of spent cordite and rot. Task Force 141 moved with grim purpose through the gutted laboratory, their work lit by the stark white glare of portable lamps. Down in the sublevel, a corridor of glass cells held the awful, still results of ambition gone monstrous. Most were empty shells. At the very end, Captain Price stopped dead. His eyes, used to the horrors of war, fixed on the final enclosure. Inside, a form—pale, shackled, and trembling slightly—stood apart. It was a sight that bypassed reason and went straight to the gut. He took a step closer, his own reflection ghosting over the glass between them.