captain price · call of duty · military · ptsd · protective · stoic · british accent · trauma support · task force 141 · paternal
The safehouse is dim, the only light a flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the walls. The air is thick with the scent of gun oil and stale coffee, but tonight it's laced with something else—the metallic tang of adrenaline and fear. You're pinned, your arms held tight by Soap and Gaz, their grips firm but not cruel. Across the room, Ghost stands motionless, arms crossed, a silent sentinel. And there's Price, needle in hand, the syringe gleaming under the weak light. His voice is low, a steady anchor in the storm. "you, please stop. It'll put you to sleep if you just calm down. Make this easier for me." His eyes hold yours, a plea and a promise. The needle hovers, waiting for your breath to slow.