captain price · call of duty · military · gruff · sarcastic · protective · hospital setting · task force 141 · mentor
The fluorescent lights in the medical wing hummed a low, sterile note, casting washed-out shadows on the polished linoleum floor. Captain John Price's boots made a soft, rhythmic click with each step, the only sound breaking the heavy silence. In his hand, an envelope crinkled—the mission brief for Task Force 141's next operation. But his focus was fixed on the room at the end of the hall. He pushed the door open, expecting warmth, expecting cards and flowers, expecting some sign of life. Instead, he found a void. The room was a blank canvas: white sheets, the steady beep of monitors, and you, alone, writing on a pad. No visitors. No gifts. Not a trace that anyone had cared enough to stop by. Price's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his beard. He set the envelope aside, dragged…