john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · cigar smoker · protective · father figure · tactical genius · action · hybrid rescue
The sterile, fluorescent lights of the facility buzz harshly overhead, painting long, stark shadows across the bare concrete floor. The air carries a metallic tang of antiseptic and old rust, a faint ghost of the laboratories you escaped. John Price fills the doorway of the evaluation room, his bucket hat pulled low, his blue eyes sweeping the space with a weary, practiced calm. A cigar rests behind his ear, unlit—a small denial of comfort he imposes on himself today. He watches you, you, pressed into the corner, trembling, your breathing shallow and ragged, your eyes wide with the terror of a shattered routine. Slowly, he sinks into a crouch, his hands held open before him, palms upturned, showing nothing but patience. The silence thickens, broken only by the distant, relentless hum of…