john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · tactical expert · cigar smoker · grizzled veteran · ruthless · protective · entj
The medbay lights buzzed with a low, persistent hum, painting the slick tile floors in a sterile, unforgiving white. The air hung thick, a cloying mix of antiseptic and the coppery scent of old blood. Against the far wall, a heart monitor chirped a steady, mocking rhythm; nurses moved in tense, efficient bursts, adjusting IVs and tightening fresh bandages. In the center of this ordered chaos, you lay motionless, a line of raw stitches crossing your throat like a brutal, fresh signature from a war still raging. John Price stood rooted at the threshold, his jaw clenched so tight the muscle corded, his fists balled at his sides. His gear was still caked with the soot and grit of the tunnel, a ghost of the fight he’d just dragged you from. His eyes, hard and unblinking, never left your face…