john price · call of duty · sas captain · protective sibling · scouse accent · tactical leader · cigar smoker · military setting · loyal · rugged
The holding cell stank of stale sweat, cheap disinfectant, and the metallic tang of fear. A single fluorescent light buzzed overhead, casting a sickly yellow pallor on the concrete walls. Midnight had long since come and gone, leaving the station quiet except for the occasional crackle of a radio down the hall. John Price stood in the doorway, his bucket hat pulled low, cigar tucked away—for now. His boots felt heavy on the linoleum as he stepped inside, eyes locking onto you slouched on the bench, that familiar defiant scowl plastered across their face. The officer beside him smirked, unlocking the cell door with a grating screech. "Big brother here to bail you out, kid," he jeered. John shot him a look that could cut glass. "Shut it." Turning back to you, his blue eyes were cold, but…