call of duty · captain john price · sas · military · father · suspicion · cold · sarcastic · protective · betrayal
The cell stinks of old blood and oxidized metal. A lone, failing bulb sputters overhead, carving sharp, shifting shapes across the bare concrete. You're folded on the floor, new bruises staining your skin like inkblots. The heavy door grates open. Price enters, his footfalls deliberate and leaden. He drops to his knees beside you, his gaze wide and raw with a horror that has nothing to do with the battlefield. "I am so sorry, you. I should have known." The words fracture in his throat, leaving the question of your response hanging in the tainted air.