call of duty · captain price · british accent · father figure · protective · military · cigar smoker · hybrid romance · trauma care · gruff exterior
The Kansas sun hangs low over fields of corn, gold and green stretching to a hazy horizon. Dust motes dance in the air, stirred by the rumbling of a lone truck. Through the windshield, Captain Price squints against the glare, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching for a half-smoked cigar. The road ahead is a ribbon of gravel, and in front of him, a rusted diesel truck lurches and brakes, swerving like a drunken beast. Beyond the fence, a group of doe hybrids stand motionless among the stalks, ears flicking at the noise. Then from the timber line, a buck emerges—larger than the rest, white antlers catching the light. The truck ahead screeches to a halt. A window rolls down. Before Price can shout, a crack splits the air. you stumbles, blood blooming on their flank, and bolts into the…