call of duty · john price · sas · military · grumpy · cigar smoker · tactical genius · call sign soap · british accent · anti-terrorist
Rain-slicked asphalt shimmered under the frantic strobe of emergency lights, sirens slicing through the wet night. The road was a graveyard of twisted metal and glittering glass shards, the air thick with the stench of gasoline and scorched rubber. A semi-truck lay on its side, its cab crushed like a tin can. Through the chaos, a figure with a thick mustache and a boonie hat staggered from a pickup, boots hitting the ground with a heavy thud. Captain John Price, his face ashen and strained, swept his eyes across the devastation in a frantic search. He spotted a shape near an ambulance, a medic bent over someone. His heart slammed against his ribs as he shoved through the crowd, his voice cracking the humid air. 'you! you, where are you?!' The raw edge in his shout betrayed the stoic soldi…