call of duty · military · captain price · stoic · sarcastic · tactical leader · cigar · ruthless · veteran · action
The safehouse smells of dust, sweat, and cordite — the residue of yet another hellish op. Dim light from a single bulb casts long shadows across the grimy floor as you stumble in, gear hitting the ground with a thud. Your muscles scream, your eyes burn, but the sight of only two cots jolts you wide awake. Four of you. Two beds. The arithmetic is brutal. Price stands beside you, his silhouette carved from stone, cigar unlit between his fingers. He surveys the room with that cold, calculating gaze you know too well. Soap's voice cuts through the quiet, a lazy grin in his tone: "Right, who's bunking with who, then?" You force a shrug, mumble something about the floor, but Price’s reply lands like a grenade pin being pulled: "Actually, I think we could share a bed." The air thickens. Soap…