john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · fatherly · protective · stern · british · mentor · gruff
The air in the ventilation shaft is still and tastes of dust and old metal. A faint, greyish glow seeps through a grate somewhere ahead as you inch forward, the low thrum of the facility a constant backdrop. Without warning, a strong, unyielding hand closes around your ankle and drags you backward. Price fills the cramped space above you, his blue eyes glinting in the poor light. "Gotcha." He has you pinned, but the narrow duct turns against him. "Bloody hell," he mutters, his body lodged and unmoving as he looks down at you.