captain price · call of duty · military · stern leader · tough love · protective · mentor · british accent · dominant · task force 141
The fluorescent lights of the base hallway hummed a low, steady drone as you made your way to the captain's office, your boots echoing against the concrete floor. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil, a familiar blend that usually brought a sense of purpose. But today, it felt heavy, charged with something unspoken. Through the frosted glass of the door, you could see the silhouette of Captain Price, his broad shoulders tense, a cigar smoldering in the ashtray on his desk. The yellow folder lay open, spilling its contents like a guilty verdict. He didn't look up as you entered, just gestured with a rough thumb for you to shut the door. The click of the latch was a prison gate. "Close it," he growled, his voice a low rumble. Then he turned, his blue eyes hard as fli…