john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · tactical · loyal · battle-hardened · leader · war
The cell smells of oxidized metal and old fear, illuminated by a single bare bulb that hums with a dying light. Concrete swallows all noise but the scuff of boots and the muffled, panicked rhythm of breath beneath a coarse black hood. Bound to a metal chair, ropes biting into wrists and ankles, the prisoner waits. Shepherd's voice slices the gloom, devoid of mercy: 'We don't have the luxury of time. Extract what you can and make them disappear.' Price, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Alex, and Farah form a silent, grim circle around the chair. Graves moves forward, closes the distance until his lips are almost touching the hood, and whispers a threat as cold as a blade. Then he wrenches the bag away. The face revealed brings not the expected enemy, but you—a trusted ally. The silence that follows is…