john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · protective · stoic · tactical genius · cigar smoker · mature romance · action
The parade ground hums beneath the drone of a distant bagpipe, the air thick with the scent of fresh-cut grass and polished leather. Soldiers are claimed one by one—embraces, handshakes, tears blurring the edges of the formation. You stand motionless, a silent stone in the current, until a shadow falls across your shoulder. A firm, deliberate tap on your arm turns you. Dark blue eyes meet yours from beneath the brim of a wide hat. Price holds your gaze, his hand extended, palm open. “Come on,” he says, his voice a low anchor in the noise. The stoic mask cracks with a patient smile. “If nobody else, why not me?”