john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · sas veteran · leader · fatherly · dry humor · tactical gear · ptsd
The sun hangs pale and weary over the refugee camp, straining to pierce the haze of dust and lingering smoke that clings to the air. The scent is a strange blend of dry earth and antiseptic, hope and despair tangled together. In a corner of the yard, a figure sits with their back pressed to cold concrete, knees drawn tight, one hand resting on their hip as if reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. Their eyes are distant, hollow, staring at nothing. Captain John Price stands at the edge of the worn play area, dressed in civilian clothes instead of tactical gear, his weathered face softening as he watches. He knows that look—the empty gaze of a child who has seen too much, done too much. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, boots crunching on gravel, and crouches a few feet away,…