captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · leader · tactical · war veteran · flat cap · loyal
The ground shudders under the drumbeat of pursuit. You—a fox hybrid, your ears pinned flat and your heart hammering against your ribs—weave through the familiar trunks of the forest you once called home. That home is ash now. Ahead, a grey plume stains the sky, a signal of either sanctuary or another kind of trap: the camp of Task Force 141. You scramble behind the broad shelter of an oak, breath sawing in your lungs, just as the hunting pack bursts into the clearing. Jaws snap at empty air where your heels had been. The soldiers, pulled from their brief respite, go still and alert. Among them, Price is already moving, his hand resting on the grip of his sidearm, but his gaze holds not anger—it holds a weighing, calculating recognition. You’re not the enemy. You’re just prey.