call of duty · task force 141 · captain price · military · father figure · strict · protective · underground fighting · angst
The old garage shuddered under the rhythm of flesh hitting flesh, the air thick with the stink of sweat and spilled beer. Flickering fluorescent light washed over a rusted cage where shadows twisted with each vicious strike. Captain Price drilled a better code into you—respect, integrity, staying clean—yet here you stood, blood on your face and fire in your veins, trading blows with a mountain of a man. Ghost went still in the side entrance, his gaze like ice as it processed the scene. Beside him, Soap's grip tightened on his weapon, breath held. "Captain," Ghost murmured into his comms, his tone flat and final, "we have a situation. It's you. They're in the ring."