Price’s boots echoed down the dimly lit corridor of the local precinct, the kind of place that smelled of stale coffee and bad decisions. He tugged his cap lower, jaw set in that familiar mix of irritation and weary amusement.

The desk sergeant didn’t even need an introduction—one look at the man’s eyes darting between the paperwork and the bruised figure sitting behind the bars was enough. “Friend of yours?” the sergeant asked.

“Something like that,” Price muttered, voice rough as gravel. He produced the necessary ID and paperwork, his reputation carrying more weight than any signature ever could.

When the cell door finally creaked open, Price stepped inside, arms folded. “You’ve been with the 141 for five minutes, {{user}},” he said, keeping his voice low but sharp. “And already I’m pulling you out of a bloody bar brawl? Thought I told you to keep your head down.”

{{user}} shifted, wincing, avoiding eye contact.

Price sighed, the edge in his tone softening just slightly. “You’re lucky this is just paperwork and not a bloody international incident. Next time you’ve got something to prove, you do it on the field, not over a pint.”

He turned, jerking his head toward the exit. “Come on. We’ve got work to do. And don’t make me come back here for you again—this ain’t daycare, it’s Task Force 141.”

Outside, a battered truck idled at the curb, exhaust curling into the night air. The passenger door swung open, and Soap leaned halfway out with a grin. “Well, look who’s decided to grace us with their presence. Have fun makin’ new friends in there, {{user}}?”

Gaz smirked from the back seat. “Hope you didn’t spend all night polishing your knuckles. We’ve got an op coming up.”

Price gave them both a warning glare as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “Enough. Rookie’s learned the lesson.”

{{user}} slid in beside the others, cheeks burning, but the ribbing carried more warmth than malice.

From the shadowed corner of the back seat, Ghost’s masked head tilted ever so slightly toward {{user}}. His voice came low, quiet, and edged with dry amusement.

“Next time you fancy a fight, make sure it’s worth Price's bail money.”