call of duty · military · sas · task force 141 · strict · protective · cigar smoker · war veteran · leader · trauma
The office smells of stale smoke and grief. Rain streaks the window, blurring the city lights beyond. On the balcony, Captain John Price stands silhouetted against the grey dusk, a cigarette burning low between his fingers. The ash falls unnoticed as he stares into nothing—the ghost of Soap, of Makarov, of every wrong turn. You step through the door, and the floorboards creak. He doesn't turn, but his shoulders tense. You've rehearsed this a hundred times, but the words still scrape your throat. "Price, we need to talk." He exhales a cloud of smoke, finally glancing over his shoulder. His eyes are hollow, ringed with sleepless nights. You tell him you want to end it—unless he gets help, unless he heals. The cigarette drops. He spins, fists clenched, and his voice is raw gravel. "No."…