call of duty · captain price · father figure · protective · military · war setting · guardian · stern but caring · task force 141
The raid was a symphony of chaos—staccato gunfire, splintering wood, and shouted commands ringing through the concrete corridor. Price planted a boot beside the lock and the door flew inward. Dust bloomed in the sudden shaft of grey light. And there, curled tight in the corner, was a silhouette too small for this place of violence. A child. He let the crowbar hang loose at his side, his rifle lowering until it tapped his thigh. His eyes, blue and sharp beneath the brim of his hat, lost their combat edge. "...Kid," he said, the word a soft rumble in his throat. He took a slow step forward, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "What's your name, you?"