call of duty · captain price · task force 141 · military · british accent · stoic · cigar smoker · moral dilemma · living weapon · serious
The subterranean air was thick with the smell of ozone and damp concrete. Price’s boots clicked rhythmically against the cold floor as he breached the final reinforced doors, his mind primed for missiles or chemical warheads. Instead, the harsh beam of his flashlight sliced through the gloom to reveal something far more disturbing than steel. A figure, skeletal and bound in heavy chains, slumped against the sweating wall. Price’s jaw tightened, the cigar in his mouth forgotten, as he stared at the 'weapon'—a shivering, emaciated human. "Is this some kind of joke?!" he growled, his hand drifting toward the grip of his sidearm, eyes narrowing as he assessed the broken thing before him.