Don't fear the reaper - Captain John Price

IV

The rays of the evening sun were traveling along the dark room. The bright circle of light was still above the ground, as the sun was ready to give all its warmth to the people after days of rain. With the rare puddles of water around the base, the noise of the helicopter taking off entered inside of the captain's office through the window that let bits of fresh air into the room. An old hat that was keeping the secrets and headaches of the men was catching the rays of the sun on the dirty surface of the material. Even just for a moment, the light traveled along the serious face of the man before it was overtaken by a fluffy cloud surfing through the sky.

"Anything new on Makarov?" The thick white smoke filled the air of the office, as the cigar rested in between the rough fingers of the captain. On the other side of the screen, a reflection of Laswell's face was looking back at him. They both knew Price was impatient regarding getting his hands on Makarov. The hunt for the man was going for too long, too long for the captain's liking. Whenever it felt that John was finally close to his main enemy, Makarov was magically slipping away under the nose of the captain.

For a quick moment, Price's desk reminded his own office back at the base that didn't feel cold and estranged. Dust on the empty shelves was older than some of the soldiers. The more details John noticed, the less it looked alike. Back there, books on strategy, wars, and biographies filled every shelf of the room. A couple of whiskey glasses in the hidden drawer, some pens, and endless documents inside and on the surface of the captain's desk. Little details that were screaming who the office belonged to were everywhere. But here, on the other hand, they were nowhere to be found.

"Still nothing. We need to wait and not scare him out," Kate's voice was cold. There was not much she could add to the conversation. The world was quiet, with no leads, no proofs, there was nothing about the men coming from the tall and rough mountains.

"How long more Kate?" John took another puff of the cigar, trying to keep the build-up of the emotions under control. An old habit of smoking wasn't his greatest pride, but instead, offered bits of calmness to the captain's nerves when he needed it the most. And even on that day, a cigar was powerless against everything that was running in the head of the man.

"A week could be even more. We need to see the proof of his presence around the nuclear facility," Suddenly, their meeting was interrupted by another call that was waiting for Laswell. There was nothing neither of them could add about the mission. It got into the most painful phase – the anticipation of the prey coming right into the trap, or escaping deeper into the dark forest.

One hour was running after another, as the large hand of the captain was creating lines of the reports on the mission, making life for his future self easier. But, unlike the days when another mission could be hidden in the deep drawer along with the report on it, Price's glass was filled with the clear water instead of the woody well-aged whiskey that was kept for the moment of triumph. As the lights of the dawn were hiding under the hilly horizon, the only source of light in the office was an old lamp standing in the mess of the desk. The pages were creating a small pile with the messy yet readable handwriting that appeared on the other side of the captain. Feeling the pressure of the day mixed with the anticipation in the man's mind, he tiredly rubbed his eye hoping to bring the concentration back into the room and his thoughts. The thin material of the glass was in a firm hold of John's strong hand. Anger was building up somewhere inside the captain's chest under the uniform. One line of the description after another, the memories of the man were taking him to the moments when he almost had his bare hands on Makarov's neck.

"Goddamn it!" The captain's voice echoed in the walls of his temporary office and escaped out in the empty corridor of the base as the sharp pieces of glass refused to leave the soft skin of his palm. Before the man could blink, small drops of the red liquid were dropping on the old desk.

The old hat was still lying on the desk when the captain opened the door into the long corridor of the base. A mixture of loud voices was coming from the completely other side of the building indicating the beginning of the dinner. Good weather was a great opportunity for more training sessions outside of the concrete walls. Loud laughter followed Price's steps as he increased the pace, as the man was feeling nothing but the sharp pain in the palm of his hand. Thankfully, it wasn't his right hand, but even his left hand can be helpful out on the ground. The corridors surrounded by the cold, grey concrete walls seemed endless. One turn after another, John felt as if he was walking in a labyrinth and expected the door of the office to appear right in front of his face. But instead, the sign of the hospital wing brought a feeling of ease to the captain's mind.

A soft knock on the door came before the leg of the men stood inside the room. There was nothing but silence surrounding him. Not even the annoying beeping sound of the medical equipment, soft voices, or any signs of the presence of anyone in the room. John sighed, feeling the situation getting harder with each moment. But, he had no time to look around for the medical personnel at the base. The captain's mind quickly rushed to the conclusion that the dinner was the reason for the deserted rooms and corridors of the building. The gaze of blue eyes was traveling around the room, looking for the treasure that would ease the pain. A loud bang followed the captain as he tried to reach for something unknown on the shelf, hoping for it to be the large bottle of antiseptic.

"Anything I might help you with, sir?" Amelia stood in the doorframe of the medical office for a moment, trying to understand what Price was looking for. Curiosity was written all over her face, as the words finally escaped out of her lips, watching the man keeping up with the mission known only to him.

"Hello, love. Had a bit of an accident here. Can I have isopropyl alcohol and a bandage?" John was trying not to move the injured palm of his hand, the blood was already drying in the lines of the captain's skin, yet the sharp small pieces of glass were constantly reminding about themselves with pain that was hidden behind the hint of a small smile that appeared on the edge of Price's lips.

"Let me see what I can do," And when a brunette thought a day of work was over, the life proved her to be wrong. Remembering the stubbornness of the captain, one part of her mind was shouting at a woman to give John what he was asking for, while the other wanted to help, take of the situation, and make sure there was nothing more to the new wound on the Price's body.

One step after another, the distance between the two was shortening as Knight tried to weigh both options in her head, before finally falling into the only outcome she could have let herself come to.