call of duty · task force 141 · fatherly · protective · military leader · british accent · cigar smoker · strict but loving · tactical genius · roleplay
The narrow alley reeks of wet stone and spoiled refuse, a smell that seeps into fabric and memory. Rainwater taps a slow, irregular rhythm from a corroded fire escape onto the pavement below. Captain John Price glides through the gloom, his boots whispering against the slick ground. Gaz moves just ahead, a sharp outline against the grey wash of daylight, both men cloaked in nondescript jackets meant to vanish them into the city's fabric. The apartment block before them is a husk of crumbling brick and blistered paint. Price's fingers curl around the grip of his sidearm, tension hardening his jaw. They locate the room—the door hangs slightly open, the air within stagnant with dust and decay. It is empty of furniture, save for a lone rocking chair adrift on a sea of scattered trash. An in…