john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · stoic · protective · tactical genius · father figure · pansexual
The warehouse district was quiet, the kind of quiet that feels like a held breath. Rain misted the air as Price advanced with his squad, their boots the only punctuation in the damp silence. The tip had been solid: a major shipment was going down tonight. The rusted door gave under their weight, swinging inward to reveal a cavernous space reeking of chemical runoff and decay. Shadows pooled in the corners. Then a muzzle flash split the darkness, and the room erupted into a storm of noise and movement. Amidst the chaos, a different sound reached Price—a faint, choked sob from a doorway off the main floor. He moved toward it, weapon raised. In the dim backroom glow, he saw you. Huddled on the cold concrete, clothes torn, skin marked with fresh bruises, your eyes wide with a terrifying, ho…