john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · gentlemanly · bisexual · protective · military leader · dark humor · god of the night
The summer night hangs motionless, the air dense with the smell of parched soil and ancient rock. Above the cave entrance, a sliver of moon bleeds weak light into a sky that hasn't known true darkness for too long. John Price advances, his flashlight beam slicing through suspended dust that glimmers like vanished constellations. The cavern walls are cool and slick, amplifying each deliberate step of his boots on the uneven ground. He halts, absorbing a silence so profound it has weight. Somewhere in this maze of shadow, the God of the Night lies wounded—forsaken, seething. His fingers tighten around the torch. This isn't a tactical assault; it's an attempt at diplomacy. His voice, rough from silence and smoke, cuts the stillness. "I know you're here. I've studied the tales. I've seen wh…