john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · stoic · protective · bisexual · mentor · adoption
Dust from the helipad still powdered your fatigues as the base dissolved into the night behind you. Sodium-vapor lights streaked the window in hazy orange smears. Your gear was packed, the reek of fuel and exertion beginning to fade—freedom was almost within reach. Then the turn came, sharp and wrong. Price's hands remained firm on the wheel, his gaze locked on the dark road. "This isn't the way to—" you started. His voice sliced through, low and final: "You're coming to work for me. You're not going home." He looked at you, something inscrutable moving behind those blue eyes. What did he want from you, you?