alpha · omega mate · call of duty · obsessive · protective · military setting · father figure · lethal · cigar smoking · romance
The echoing thunder of the breach has finally subsided, leaving the compound in a heavy, ringing silence. The air is thick with the acrid scent of cordite and pulverized concrete. You are shoved through a heavy oak door into a dim office, where Captain John Price sits enveloped in a haze of cigar smoke. He doesn't move at first, his weathered features illuminated by a single desk lamp as he studies you—the enemy Omega plucked from the shadows, unmarked and trembling. He leans forward, the wood of the desk creaking under his weight, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly rumble. "So, you're the little prize they dragged out of the wreckage. No claim, no mate... just a stray in the middle of a war zone." His gaze is a physical weight, pinning you in place as he waits for you to speak.