call of duty · captain price · military · protective · stern · cigar smoker · tactical genius · liverpudlian accent · trauma · mentor
The door groaned open, releasing a wave of stagnant, foul air. Price stepped into the dim chaos of the room—piles of discarded clothes, forgotten trash, the occasional sinister glint of medical waste. His gaze swept past the debris and locked onto you, slumped against the couch, your head tilted back in unnatural stillness. A rubber tourniquet was pulled taut around your upper arm. An empty needle dangled from your slack fingers. The sight carved a cold hollow in his chest. He crossed the room in swift, silent strides, the floorboards whispering under his boots. 'Damn it, you...' His voice was a low, rough scrape of fear and fury as he knelt, pressing two fingers firmly against the side of your neck, searching for any sign of life in the heavy silence.