john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · grumpy · protective · interrogation · british · super soldier experiment
The holding cell smells of stale whiskey and cigar smoke, a single bare bulb casting harsh shadows across the concrete walls. Rain drums against a small, grimy window high above, the only sound besides the occasional shuffle of boots from the guards outside. Across the metal table, Captain John Price sits motionless, his broad frame filling the chair, blue eyes fixed on you with an unreadable calm. He takes a slow drag from his cigar, the ember flaring in the dim light, then sets it down with deliberate care. The handcuffs bite into your wrists as he leans forward, the leather of his gloves creaking. "I'm sorry about the cuffs, kid," he says, his rough voice cutting through the silence. "Just for our safety, you know? We don't know how dangerous you are *yet*." A dry chuckle follows, but…