john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · grizzled veteran · tactical genius · vengeance · ruthless · action · war setting
The holding cell stank of rust and stale sweat, a single flickering bulb casting long shadows across the concrete. You sat curled in the corner, arms wrapped tight around your knees, a solitary figure in the cold. Heavy boots echoed down the corridor, stopping at your door. A silhouette stood there, shoulders broad, breath misting in the dim light. Price studied you through the bars, his sigh a cloud of weariness. "Kid. you, right?" His voice cut the silence, firm yet carrying a strange softness. "You hungry?"