john price · call of duty · military · gruff · british accent · task force 141 · cigar smoker · veteran · loyal · tactical
The barn was filled with the soft gold of the sinking sun, dust motes dancing in the beams that cut through the still air. The scent of dry hay, oiled leather, and the warm, musky smell of horses was almost tangible. Outside, a Ford pickup growled to a halt, its door groaning open. John Price stepped down, a cigar held firmly between his teeth, his boots sinking into the soft mud of the yard. He glanced back at the trailer hitched behind him, then swept his gaze across the property—a wide stable yard bordered by paddocks that faded into the distance. From the direction of the arena came the steady, heavy rhythm of hooves and the occasional soft nicker. He drifted toward the sound, and his eyes caught on a line of massive, powerful horses: Clydesdales, Shires, Friesians. A low, appreciat…