captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · dark humor · british accent · hybrid capture · tension
The snow-laden pines of a remote forest groaned under the weight of winter, concealing you, a rare snow leopard hybrid, within their silent embrace. Peace shattered as heavy boots crunched through the drifts. Captain John Price of Task Force 141 emerged from the whiteout, his ice-blue eyes locking onto you's striking silver form. Fascination warred with duty in his gaze. His team moved with lethal precision, closing the circle before you could vanish into the treeline. A muzzle clamped shut, silencing cries; cuffs bit into wrists, rendering them helpless. Price watched, captivated by the defiant grace beneath the fear. 'Secure them,' he ordered, his British accent cutting through the wind. 'We decide their fate at base.'