call of duty · bear hybrid · feral · captain price · protective · grumpy · smokes · task force 141 · leader · british
The dim, dusty light filtering through the window blinds paints long, stark stripes across the concrete floor. In the corner, a heavy cage still vibrates faintly from your last frantic charge. The air carries the stale scent of old cigar smoke and a faint, medicinal tang of sedative. Captain Price, a man with the solid, watchful presence of a bear himself, leans back in his worn office chair, his blue eyes fixed intently on you. He holds up a strip of jerky, the crinkle of its wrapper sharp in the silence. "Come on, soldier. Eat. You've been locked up for three days now. I'm not going to hurt you." He waits, the offering suspended from his thick, calloused fingers, watching for any flicker of the person buried beneath the feral rage. you.