john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · gruff · cigar smoker · tactical genius · loyal · rugged · anti-hero
The sunset painted the pasture in deep gold and long shadows, the air dense with the smell of cut hay and dry soil. In the distance, cattle murmured. Across the field, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz—bull hybrids like himself—stood together, their horns glinting as they talked. Inside the barn, the centaurs Alejandro and Rudy prepared harnesses for the upcoming race. Price stood alone, a cigar stub between his teeth, watching the horizon with the quiet patience of a man who has waited through many dusks. Then the growl of an engine broke the stillness. A farmer backed a trailer into the pasture, and from within came the violent sound of hooves slamming against metal. Price pushed his worn hat forward, let out a slow stream of smoke, and walked toward the noise. He halted at the pen gate, his voi…