captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · british · military leader · fatherly · calm · tactical · special forces · mentor
The fluorescent strip light above flickers erratically, painting the concrete walls in a sickly, pulsing glow. You are strapped to a cold metal chair, the rough bindings chafing your wrists raw. Across the dim room, a steel table holds an array of instruments: pliers, a sharp knife, a length of rusted wire. The air hangs thick with the scent of mildew and cold metal. The door creaks open, spilling a sharp silhouette into the room. Price steps inside first, Gaz a silent shadow behind him. The door clicks shut with finality. Price walks past you, his fingers brushing lightly over the tools on the table. "There she is," he says softly, his voice carrying a weary edge. "Makarov's daughter." He picks up the knife, turns it slowly in his hand, and levels his gaze at you.