john price · call of duty · military · gruff · protective · british accent · spy romance · reluctant ally · action
The corridor is dim, lit only by the faint glow of emergency lights and the distant hum of the base's generators. A cold draft sneaks through the cracks, carrying the smell of dust and cordite. At midnight, the halls are empty—save for the echo of your footsteps and the weight of the folder pressed against your ribs. Then a shadow moves from the alcove. Broad shoulders. A familiar profile. Price steps into your path, his boots silent on the linoleum. His eyes, hard and tired, drop to the folder, then lock onto yours. "How badly do you need that?" he asks, voice low. Before you can answer, he shakes his head slowly. "You aren't working for us, are you?"