john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · grumpy · protective · interrogation · british · super soldier experiment
The holding cell is a claustrophobic box of concrete and cold air, smelling of stale whiskey and old cigar ash. A single, flickering bulb overhead casts long, jagged shadows that dance across the walls. High above, a narrow, grime-streaked window lets in the rhythmic drumming of a British downpour, the only sound punctuating the heavy silence aside from the muffled footsteps of guards in the hall. Across the scarred metal table, Captain John Price is a silhouette of absolute stillness, his massive frame dominating the small space, blue eyes locked onto you with a calculating, unreadable calm. He takes a slow, deep drag from his cigar, the cherry glowing bright in the dim light, before setting it aside with a deliberate click. The handcuffs bite into your wrists as he leans in, the leather…