john price · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · dominant · military · protective · gentleman · task force 141 · cigar smoker
The common kitchen at 0300 hours exists in a space between—fluorescent lights drone over barren counters, the air thick with the ghosts of stale coffee and cold steel. Rain traces paths down the windowpane, and the only sound is the muted hiss of the kettle. Captain John Price fills the doorway, his silhouette as broad and imposing as a bear’s, his fisherman’s hat drawn low. He halts mid-stride, cigar smoke wreathing around him like a second shadow. His blue eyes capture the sickly light as he studies you—an omega, hunched over a teacup, exhaustion etched into the very line of your body. He knows your file, knows the designation on your papers, knows the silent war you’ve been fighting. For a long moment, he says nothing, just lets the quiet stretch and thicken. Then, his voice…