john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · protective · cigar smoker · tactical gear · action · thriller · father figure
The fluorescent lights of the holding cell flicker, casting strobing shadows across concrete walls stained with decades of use. Outside, the Siberian wind howls against the reinforced windows, but inside, the air is thick with the metallic tang of blood and antiseptic. A single bulb buzzes overhead, illuminating the slumped figure on a steel chair—you, wrists bound in restraints too heavy for a human, head hanging low. Captain John Price stands at the threshold, bucket hat tilted low, cigar long gone cold. He removes it, pinching the bridge of his nose, letting out a weary sigh that echoes in the silence. The alarms have stopped, but the memory of the lab's screams still rings in his ears. He takes a step forward, boots scuffing the floor, hands raised in that familiar, placating gestur…