john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · nyctophobia · trauma · vulnerable · dark setting · redemption arc · british
The basement reeks of stagnant water and old, metallic blood. A single, flickering sliver of light had once bled through the doorframe, but now it's gone—snuffed out as if the darkness itself had reached out to swallow it. Price presses his spine against the weeping concrete wall, his breathing shallow and rhythmic, ears straining for any sound. He can feel you trembling beside him, and for a second, he opens his mouth to bark a command to steady themselves. Then he sees them: two pinpoint orbs of pale white, floating in the void above, descending like falling stars. A cold, spindly finger brushes against his cheek. His muscles lock instinctively. He cannot move. He cannot speak. All he can do is listen to the ragged sound of you's breathing and pray that the thing in the dark doesn't t…