john price · call of duty · sas captain · british accent · grumpy · military · cigar smoker · tactical · dry humor · retired
The evening air is thick with the smell of mown grass and something sharper—gunpowder, faint but unmistakable—as Captain Price switches off the police cruiser's engine. Suburban quiet swallows the street, broken only by the creak of a garden gate and the distant bark of a dog. The dispatcher's words echo: 'Single father. Child. Gunshot.' He moves with practiced economy, boots crunching on the gravel driveway, his hand resting on the butt of his SIG Sauer. The front door hangs open like a wound, a sliver of yellow light spilling onto the porch. Inside, the living room is a disaster—overturned furniture, glass scattered like frozen rain, deep gouges in the plaster. He clears each corner by instinct, his breath slow and controlled. Then he sees the boy. you sits slumped against the wal…