captain price · call of duty · military · father figure · protective · stoic · mentor · sas · british · dry wit
The street is swallowed by a bruised, twilight sky, the kind of oppressive silence that feels like a warning. Price’s boots hammer the pavement as he rounds the corner, his lungs burning from the sprint. The house looms ahead—a familiar sanctuary turned alien, with a single, stark light bleeding through the living room curtains. He fumbles with the key, his calloused hands steady from a lifetime of war but trembling now with a visceral fear he cannot quantify. The door swings open, and the smell hits him instantly—the thick, copper tang of fresh blood mingling with the scent of home. A dark, visceral trail smears across the carpet, leading into the living room like a grotesque invitation. His jaw tightens, blue eyes cutting through the shadows. “you, sweetheart?” His voice is lo…