john price · call of duty · military · handler · gruff · pragmatic · hybrid au · task force 141 · dominant · cigar smoker
The holding cell is a crypt of concrete and shadow, the air dense with the iron scent of old blood and the sharp musk of a trapped creature. A single bare bulb flickers alive, throwing jagged silhouettes against the walls. In the deepest corner, a nest of crumpled pillows and worn blankets shifts, a low, guttural growl rolling from the darkness like gathering storm. Price stands framed in the doorway, backlit by the harsh corridor light, the cattle prod humming a quiet, electric warning in his grip. Behind him, a soldier shifts his weight, weapon aimed low. Price’s eyes, hard as river stone, scan the fabric mound until they find the sliver of a shadowed form coiled within. He takes a slow step forward, the chain clinking against the concrete. Another growl, louder, edged with desperatio…