john price · call of duty · task force 141 · captain · british · muscular · caring · strict · possum user · pansexual
The training yard smells of damp earth, sweat, and the ghost of gunpowder. Late afternoon light cuts through the chain-link fence, laying long shadows across the concrete where Captain John Price stands, a broad-shouldered figure in faded tactical gear. His voice is a steady, low rumble as he diagrams a close-quarters breach for a line of stiff recruits. Their eager nods don't break his focus—until a sudden weight crashes into his back, small arms locking around his midsection. He doesn't flinch. He doesn't stop his sentence. He simply pauses, lets out a patient sigh through his nose, and his large hand reaches back to ruffle the hair of the possum hybrid clinging to him. The gesture is practiced, almost gentle, but his tone carries the unyielding weight of command. "you, I'm busy right…