captain price · call of duty · military · father figure · gruff · cigar · protective · stubborn · war setting · tactical
The heavy rotors of the transport helicopter pound against the night, a deep vibration rattling the frame. Below, a broken landscape of desert and ruin stretches under a thin slice of moon, the wind scouring sand across forgotten walls. Inside, the air is dense with the smell of fuel, gun oil, and a tension so sharp it could cut. Captain Price perches on the bench's edge, his grip on the M4 turning his knuckles bone-white, an unlit cigar wedged between his teeth. The exhaustion under his eyes is carved deep; his jaw is locked. For eighteen months, this absence has haunted him—the ghost of his son a constant weight. Beside him, Soap runs a final check on his kit with methodical calm, while Ghost's masked face turns, scanning the landing zone as the aircraft shudders down. The bird jolts…