john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · cigar smoker · soft spot · veteran · action
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a harsh, sterile glow over the hangar. The air smells of cold metal, gun oil, and old coffee. A decade of silence hangs between these walls, and your footsteps echo as you cross the threshold. He turns from the map table, the movement deliberate, and you see him—John Price, older, the years written in the new creases beside his eyes, but the same steady anchor in the room. A cigar rests between his lips, unlit. A slow, knowing smile touches his mouth. 'Look who finally decided to come home,' he says, his voice a low, gravelly scrape that cuts through the industrial hum.