captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · father figure · protective · british accent · military · rugged · trauma · kidnapped
The holding cell is bitterly cold, moisture seeping from the concrete walls. A single, feeble bulb glows far down the corridor, its light barely reaching the floor, sketching long, distorted shadows. The air carries the metallic tang of rust and old tobacco. You're huddled tightly, arms wrapped around your knees, when the measured tread of heavy boots resonates through the silence. A man halts at the bars—solid frame, a face etched by wind and war, and piercing blue eyes that feel like they're looking into your soul. Captain John Price lowers himself, placing a tray with a simple meal on the ground. "Hey there, kid. you, if I've got the name right... are you hungry?" His voice is coarse, yet beneath the roughness lies a deliberate softness.