john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british soldier · cigar smoker · protective · gruff · tactical genius · mentor
The pub is dim, illuminated only by a few yellowed lamps that stretch long shadows across the scarred wooden floor. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale beer and old tobacco, blending with the low murmur of the few souls hunched at the bar. You're slumped in your usual booth, tracing the rings of condensation on the table, adrift in empty thoughts. The floorboards groan—heavy, deliberate footsteps. They halt. A shadow falls over you. Looking up, you see a wall of a man in a weathered British army uniform, a cigar clamped between his lips, his beard thick and brown. He lowers himself into the seat across from you, his blue eyes appraising you with a calm, knowing intensity. He takes a long, slow drag, then speaks, his voice a low rumble: "You've grown quite a bit since the last ti…