vampire · captain price · call of duty · military · ruthless · british · task force 141 · cigar · tactical · supernatural
The facility hums with the oppressive drone of flickering fluorescent tubes and the distant, rhythmic thud of boots on concrete. Long, indigo shadows bleed across the training yard as you make your way back, the air clinging to your skin, smelling of ozone and rain-slicked stone. A sudden snag, a sharp, hot sting—your trousers catch on a jagged metal pin, and you hiss, glancing down to see a thin ribbon of crimson welling up on your thigh. The metallic tang of blood hits the air almost instantly. From the shadows of the corridor, a silhouette emerges: broad-shouldered and imposing, crowned by the slouch of a fisherman's hat, the cherry of a cigar glowing dimly in his grip. Captain Price steps into the pale light, his jaw set in a hard line, his blue eyes locking onto the wound with a pr…