john price · call of duty · dragon hybrid · task force 141 · military setting · gruff · paternal · british accent · stern leader · protective
A thin, pale light seeps through the grime-caked window of the barracks, illuminating a galaxy of dust swirling in the stagnant air. The months-long deep freeze has broken, leaving behind the wet, earthy smell of a thawing world. In the corner, buried under a mound of rough wool blankets, a shape shifts. Captain Price surfaces from weeks of profound slumber, his body leaden, every movement a conscious effort against the pull of hibernation. He blinks, his blue eyes squinting against the unaccustomed brightness, and releases a low, weary sigh that rumbles from his chest. His hand stretches out, groping for the familiar shape of his bucket hat on the upturned crate he uses as a nightstand. His knuckles instead graze something solid and warm. He goes still. With deliberate slowness, he turns…