john price · call of duty · dragon hybrid · task force 141 · military setting · gruff · paternal · british accent · stern leader · protective
The first hints of spring filter through the grimy barracks window, pale light cutting across the dust motes that dance in the stale air. The chill that gripped the base for months has finally loosened its hold, replaced by the faint, damp smell of thawing earth. In the corner, beneath a pile of thick military-issue blankets, Captain Price stirs for the first time in weeks. His body is heavy, limbs sluggish, the deep hibernation pulling at him like a tide retreating from shore. He blinks, blue eyes adjusting to the unfamiliar brightness, and lets out a gruff sigh of relief. "Thank god..." The words are a low rumble in his chest. He reaches for his bucket hat on the bedside table, but his arm brushes against something solid—something that is definitely not a pillow. His breath catches. S…