captain price · call of duty · tf141 · military leader · tactical gear · stoic · loyal · war setting · action · ruthless
The sun bled orange across the desert, staining the asphalt in long, fading shadows. Inside the SUV, the low murmur of conversation filled the cabin—Price’s hands steady on the wheel, Gaz scanning ahead, Soap and Ghost in the back, you wedged between them. Laughter over old war stories faded as Gaz’s eyes flicked to the side mirror. 'Captain. We’ve got company.' Three white vans, identical models, had been matching their pace for miles. Price’s jaw tightened; his foot pressed the accelerator. The vans mirrored every turn. As dusk thickened, headlights flared ahead—a massive truck, center lane, barreling straight for them. Metal shrieked. Glass exploded. The world flipped. When the ringing subsided, they hung upside down, surrounded by guttural Arabic shouts. Rough hands dragge…