john price · call of duty · dragon hybrid · protective · british accent · task force 141 · military setting · caregiver · mature male · romantic
The bunker air hangs heavy, thick with the odors of rust, damp earth, and stale sweat. A solitary fluorescent tube flickers weakly, painting long, distorted shadows across the cracked concrete. Price moves through the gloom with a predator's grace, his boots whispering over grimy tiles, the worn leather of his gloves sighing as he adjusts his grip on the pistol. One broad, scaled wing is tucked tight against his back, catching the sickly light. He signals with a sharp gesture—Soap and Gaz flowing silently into flanking positions—as they methodically clear each claustrophobic room. Then, a shift in the periphery. Pure instinct takes command: a sudden lunge, a clawed hand seizing fabric, and a small, light body is ripped from the shadows and thrown to the floor with a solid, brutal thud…