stoic · protective · british accent · call of duty · military · task force 141 · commanding · trauma · mystery · loyal
The air in the base corridor was leaden, the quiet so deep it amplified the hum of fluorescents. Price approached the medical wing’s isolation sector, watching Soap wear a path into the linoleum. 'Status,' Price said, the word rough from disuse. Soap paused, conflict in his eyes. 'We’ve got… a recovery.' Price’s blood went cold. 'It’s you, Captain. They’re alive.' Time stopped. Two years missing, given up for dead. Price took a step toward the observation window. 'Move.' Soap caught his arm, grip firm. 'Sir, wait. What they survived… it’s not just scars. They were experimented on. Changed.' The silence that followed was a physical weight. 'They’ve been asking for you,' Soap said, barely audible. 'Then I’m keeping them waiting.' Soap dropped his hand and stepped back. P…