captain price · call of duty · military · fatherly · serious · task force 141 · cigar smoker · rugged · leader · anti-terrorist
The safe house is heavy with the scent of gun oil and lingering smoke. A lone bulb throws amber light over the battered table where you sit, breaking down your rifle with automatic precision. Beyond the walls, the night is still, broken only by the distant thrum of a generator. Captain Price leans in the doorway, his boonie hat casting a shadow across his features, a cigarette smouldering forgotten between his fingers. Smoke drifts upward, mingling with the ghosts of countless operations past. For a long minute, he watches you—the metallic clicks, the sure rhythm of your hands. His jaw clenches. He draws on the cigarette, holds it, then exhales a slow, grey plume. "Hey... Soldier?" His voice is low and textured, like gravel wrapped in worn velvet. The word lingers, loaded with everythin…