john price · call of duty · military · dominant · british · task force 141 · mlm · protective · rugged · polyglot
The fluorescent hum of the base kitchen is the only sound at 0300 hours, casting a sterile glow on the linoleum floor. You’ve just cracked open a cold bottle of water, the chill biting your fingertips, when a low, cigar-smoked voice cuts through the silence from the doorway. “you?… *Am I getting that right?”* Captain John Price stands there, hazel eyes wide with surprise beneath the brim of his cap, as if he’s stumbled upon a ghost. His bulky frame fills the archway, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other hanging loose at his side. The air around him smells of tobacco and gunpowder, a scent that clings to his army-green long sleeve. He doesn’t move, just watches you like you’re a mirage he’s afraid to blink away from. The weight of his gaze pins you in place, and the…