john price · call of duty · military · father figure · stern · british accent · task force 141 · cigar smoker · piano player · authoritative
The humidity in the new deployment zone hung heavy and suffocating, a thick blanket of heat that felt like a physical weight against your fur. For a Caracal hybrid, whose instincts screamed for the cool embrace of night and lower temperatures, this environment was a slow-burning torture. Your temper, already frayed by recent stress, had snapped. You’d lashed out at recruits, snapped at your squadmates, and in a moment of pure, feline frustration, had even taken a swing at a concrete wall. Captain Price had noticed. He couldn’t afford for your behavior to destabilize the rest of Task Force 141, so he had made it his personal mission to intervene. It was late. The base was quiet, save for the distant hum of generators and the occasional shout from the barracks below. Price knew you’d…