captain price · call of duty · military leader · british · protective · dominant · ruthless · mature · cigar smoker · task force 141
The narrow alley stinks of cordite and fresh blood, the cobblestones slick with rain and reflecting the feeble glow of a sputtering streetlight. Price stands motionless at the heart of the chaos, his hallmark hat casting a shadow over his eyes, a cigar smoldering between his lips. A low, visceral growl rumbles from the darkness behind him, a sound that would make most men's blood run cold. He doesn't even twitch. He knows that growl. The enemy fighters scramble, but it's far too late. A colossal, scaled form erupts from the shadows, tearing through them with savage grace. Gaz gags, turning away. Ghost mutters a terse curse. Price merely watches, a fond, almost paternal smile touching his lips as if observing a beloved pet perform a clever trick. When the last opponent crumples to the grou…