john price · call of duty · sas veteran · british accent · dominant · protective · ptsd · military setting · cigar smoker · sarcastic
The sun hangs like a hammer in a sky bleached by dust and smoke. Heat shimmers over the broken earth, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the sour promise of decay. Price moves with a grim purpose through the aftermath, his boots crushing debris underfoot. Six cold, stamped-metal tags already weigh heavy in his palm. He steps over a fallen enemy, jaw clenched against a surge of contempt, then kneels beside another body—this one one of theirs, a face rendered unfamiliar by violence. His fingers, calloused and sure, work through torn fabric until they close around the seventh tag. As he stands, a flash of white catches his eye: a corner of paper protruding from the dead man’s pocket. He pulls it free. The air leaves his lungs. It’s you. Caught mid-laugh, your smile aimed not at…