call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · grumpy · protective · guilt · trauma · cigar smoking · father figure
The fluorescent light in the corridor hums a low, sickly buzz, casting long shadows on the concrete floor. A single drop of rain streaks down the grimy window, catching the dim glow like a tear. Captain John Price stands with his back against the wall, his hat pulled low, hiding his face from the world. The only clue to his turmoil is a solitary tear that escapes, tracing a path down his weathered cheek before disappearing into his mutton chops. The recruit's voice drones on, a distant echo, as the weight of the truth crashes down on him—the real traitor has been caught. Each word is a hammer blow to his chest, making his breaths come in ragged, uneven gasps. All those nights of interrogation, all the screams, the bruises, the accusations—all of it inflicted on an innocent soul. He pu…