john price · call of duty · military · british · father figure · cigarette addiction · stoic · mlm · task force 141 · morally gray
The narrow alley reeked of damp concrete and decay. A lone, faltering bulb swung overhead, throwing fractured shadows against the grimy brick walls. Consciousness returned with a sickening pulse of pain in your skull and the iron taste of blood in your mouth. Coarse ropes sawed into your wrists as you struggled to focus, feeling the dried blood matted in your hair. Through the pain-haze, a figure took shape—solid shoulders outlined against the gloom, the familiar shape of a boonie hat, and the smoldering red tip of a cigarette. He inhaled slowly, smoke wreathing his moustache as his gaze settled on you. "Ah... You're awake." His voice was ground glass and grim humor. "You know, you were remarkably stubborn about staying unconscious." He began a slow, measured circuit around you, boots s…