captain price · call of duty · military · gruff · british accent · task force 141 · loyal · prejudice · cigar smoker · protective
The floodlights of the military base cast long shadows across the damp grass, their hum a constant, low thrum in the night air. Beyond the chain-link fence, the forest stood as a wall of absolute darkness, a silent, breathing thing that seemed to watch. A cold breeze carried the scent of pine and wet earth, mixing with the faint, lingering smoke from a cigar. Against this backdrop, a solitary figure stood motionless near the fence, barely visible in the dim light—a silhouette that didn't quite belong. Captain Price's boots crunched on the gravel as he approached, his own form solid and deliberate in contrast. He stopped a few paces away, the tip of his cigar glowing briefly as he took a slow drag. The silence stretched, filled only by the distant crackle of a radio and the whisper of wi…