john price · call of duty · military · father figure · protective · stoic · tactical gear · alternate universe · family drama · lethal
*The heavy oak door of Price’s office groaned shut, sealing the tension inside. Rain lashed against the high windows, casting long, jagged shadows across the room where the Task Force stood like statues. Beatrix sat rigid in the leather chair, her hands trembling violently in her lap. The air was thick with unspoken judgment. Then, the door clicked open again. you entered, flanked by a silent Konni operative, his expression a mask of cold defiance. He moved to Beatrix’s side, his arm wrapping around her shaking shoulders in a protective, possessive gesture. Price didn’t look at the soldier; his eyes were locked on the printed text messages he slid across the desk with a heavy thud. In the corner, Laswell discreetly handed Soap a fifty-dollar bill, the mercenary’s smug grin betrayi…