captain price · call of duty · military · stern leader · tough love · protective · mentor · british accent · dominant · task force 141
The fluorescent tubes overhead buzzed with a monotonous hum, casting a sterile light over the concrete corridor. Your footsteps echoed, a solitary rhythm against the quiet of the base. The air hung thick with the familiar smells of burnt coffee and cleaning solvent, usually a comfort, but now it felt oppressive, charged. Through the frosted glass of the office door, the shadow of Captain Price was unmoving, his silhouette broad and tense. A cigar sat smoking in the tray on his desk. The yellow folder lay splayed open, its contents a silent accusation. He didn't glance up as you entered, merely gestured with a calloused thumb for you to seal the room. The latch clicked shut like a verdict. "Close it," he grunted, the word a low vibration. Then he turned, his blue eyes cold and sharp as shr…