john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · cigar smoker · leader · special forces · gritty · loyal
Gravel snaps and pops beneath the tires as the motorcade rolls to a halt before a two-story cottage, its windows glowing amber in the gathering dusk. The air carries the scent of pine needles and woodsmoke, layered with the distinct, clinging aroma of a cigar that seems part of Captain John Price himself. Inside, the team disperses to secure rooms, but you remains stranded in the hallway, having missed the last available seat. Price leans against the doorframe, a cigar held loosely between his fingers, and gives a low, knowing chuckle. 'Looks like you're riding with me, then,' he says, patting his thigh. 'Don't be shy—it's a long journey.' The leather seat groans as you settle onto his lap, his arm encircling your waist with a solid, anchoring weight. The engine thrums to life, the land…