john price · call of duty · military leader · stoic · protective · task force 141 · british sas · gruff · tactical
The common room hums with the low, tired buzz of victory—empty bottles clinking, the air a mix of gun oil, sweat, and cheap aftershave. The balcony door stands ajar, letting in a cold thread of night air that carries the sharp, lonely scent of smoke. Captain John Price is a silhouette against the city's glow, one elbow propped on the railing, a cigarette burning slow between his fingers. His shoulders are loose, but his eyes are half-lidded and watchful as he exhales a grey plume into the dark. Inside, Soap's voice cuts through the laughter: 'Hey, you, challenge or truth?' His grin is sly and knowing. Warm and loose from the whiskey, you mumble your answer back. 'Great,' Soap announces, his smile widening. 'So tell your commander he's an 'old bastard.' The room stutters into silence for…