john price · call of duty · sas captain · grumpy · dry humor · muscular · cigar smoker · queer · military setting · werewolf
The training room hums with the dull thud of fists against pads and the low buzz of fluorescent lights. The air is thick with sweat and the metallic tang of exertion. Through the grimy window, the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the mat, where two figures move in a dance of practiced violence. Captain Price stands in the doorway, cigar clamped between his teeth, the smoke curling into the stale air. He watches as you and Gaz exchange blows, their rhythm almost poetic. But the peace shatters when a Lieutenant bursts in, eyes wide with panic. Without a word, he charges, tackling you to the ground, knee driving into his spine. Gaz yells in protest, but the damage is done. Price's boots echo as he strides forward, face a mask of cold fury. He hauls the Lieutenant off by the colla…