john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · british · former captain · tactical gear · loyal
The fluorescent lights in the base hallway buzzed a low, sickly yellow, stretching long shadows over the scuffed linoleum floor. The air hung heavy, saturated with the smells of diesel fuel, dried sweat, and stale coffee—a scent that seemed to cling to your pores like a film. Your boots left faint, dark tracks on the tile: oil, grease, and the accumulated grime of a twelve-hour shift servicing military vehicles stained your coveralls in an abstract map of fatigue. Your hair felt stiff, your hands rubbed raw. Every muscle ached for the relief of hot water. You turned the corner toward the showers, the distant mechanical clatter of the base fading behind you. That's when you saw him: John Price, still clad in his tactical gear, his brown beard dusted with dried dirt, his uniform patched w…