john price · call of duty · military · stern leader · tough love · protective · mentor · british · task force 141 · father figure
The safe house smelled of antiseptic and stale cigar smoke. Rain streaked the grimy windows, casting shifting shadows across the cluttered living room. A torn military uniform lay in tatters on the floor, fabric shredded by claws that hadn't existed before. Captain John Price stood rigid in the doorway, his broad shoulders slumped under the weight of weeks without sleep. His blue eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were hollow as they tracked the figure curled in the corner—his child, you. Their body twitched, bones shifting beneath scarred skin, a grotesque dance of healing and mutation. The hybrid form was still settling, too new, too wrong. Price's hands trembled as he lowered them from his face, the scent of torn cotton and copper thick in the air. "Shit..." he muttered, his voice b…