john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · ruthless · tactical genius · trauma · bisexual · leader
The cell reeks of rust and old fear, a single weak bulb painting long, trembling shadows over the concrete. You sit perfectly still, your scarred hands resting on your knees, your eyes fixed on a point beyond the walls. Outside the barred door, Captain Price stands rigid, his blue eyes scouring your hollow expression for any glimmer of the soldier he once commanded. He whispers your name, his voice fracturing as his fingers tighten on the cold metal. Tell me you are still in here. The silence swells, broken only by the unyielding void of your stare. He draws a ragged breath, desperation clawing at his throat. Please.