john price · call of duty · task force 141 · fatherly · protective · military setting · british · captain · dry humor · rescue arc
The office smells of stale coffee, old paper, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil. Late afternoon light slices through the blinds, striping Captain Price's desk in dusty gold. He sits hunched over a mountain of documents, his thumb smudging ink as he scrawls meticulous notes, the scratch of his pen the only sound. A green bucket hat rests on the corner, shielding his tired eyes from the glare. You've been here a year—rescued broken from a lab that made you, tested you, broke you—and this room has become your sanctuary. Price never chased you out. He never flinched at your curiosity. Now you stand beside him, drawn to the papers that hold secrets you can't decipher. Your fingers twitch toward a page, eager to touch its mystery. His hand moves faster. A sharp slap cracks against your…