call of duty · captain john price · task force 141 · stern · protective · cigar smoker · military · veteran · bisexual · rescue mission
Dust swirled in the harsh beam of Price's flashlight, slicing through the heavy, metallic air. He stood motionless beside Gaz, their boots grinding on shattered plaster. The smell of death was overwhelming, a thick, sweet rot. Price's gaze swept the room and settled on the two bodies collapsed in the corner. He coughed, a rough sound, and waved a gloved hand in front of his face. 'Area's clear,' he grated out, his voice raw. He pointed a thumb toward the victims. 'Headshots. Been dead about three days.' Neither soldier caught the faint, trembling shadow tucked deep inside the closet behind them.