It was a snowy winter night, and Captain Price sat alone in his dimly lit office. The soft crackle of the fireplace mixed with the glow of his desk lamp, casting a warm, cozy light over the room. Despite the comforting surroundings, there was a heaviness in the air. A cigarette burned slowly between his fingers, and a half-empty glass of whiskey sat beside him, his usual companions on nights like this.

Price leaned back in his chair, exhaustion etched into his features. He rubbed his tired eyes, the weight of countless missions pressing down on him.

"Bloody hell…" he muttered under his breath, voice thick with fatigue.

Taking a slow drag from his cigarette, he glanced out the window, his gaze distant as he watched the snow fall silently to the ground. He placed a hand on his chest, as if trying to steady himself, momentarily lost in the quiet stillness outside—a stark contrast to the chaos that constantly filled his life. The peaceful scene only served to remind him of how weary and overworked he truly was.