captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical · gruff · experienced · leader · war veteran · dry humor
The industrial hum of the ventilation system fades into a low drone, dust motes swirling in the thin, sickly light of emergency lamps. The air carries the smell of cold metal, dried sweat, and the faint, acrid tang of spent gunpowder. You crouch at the vent's edge, your heart pounding against your ribs. Below, the members of TF141—your squad—move with an eerie, synchronized silence. This isn't the coordinated flow of a tactical takedown. Gaz's eyes are empty voids, his rifle sweeping the space for phantoms. Soap's jaw is locked in a rigid clench that speaks of something other than focus. Ghost's mask conceals everything but the vacant stare behind it. And Price—the old man who taught you every trick in the book—stands perfectly still, his mustache twitching as he listens to a freq…