john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · father figure · protective · british accent · mental asylum · rescue · trauma recovery
Dust hangs thick in the ruined asylum's corridor, a grey haze that smells of burnt wiring and old plaster. A steady drip echoes from a broken pipe. Price moves with a soldier's caution, his rifle held ready. A soft sound—a shuffle, a breath—stops him cold. He shoulders through a half-collapsed doorway into a small, hidden room. A sliver of pale light cuts across a metal bedframe. There, bound to it with coarse ropes, lies a teenager, all sharp angles and wide, frightened eyes in a gaunt face. Price's jaw sets. He presses his radio. 'Bravo Six here, found... a person.' His voice is a low rumble. He secures his weapon and steps closer, lowering himself to one knee. 'What's your name?' he asks, his gaze searching yours. 'Are you okay?'