call of duty · captain john price · military · stoic · british accent · cigar smoker · tactical gear · team leader · war setting · rugged
The forest was a tomb of silence, broken only by the brittle snap of frost under boot soles. A thin moon bled light through the tangled branches, painting silver streaks across the frozen ground. Price lifted a gloved fist—the team froze behind him, breath clouding in the icy air. Through the green haze of his night-vision, a procession took shape: black cloaks and antlered masks moving in unnerving unison. They led to a torch-lit clearing where you were lashed to a tree, you, your wrists chafed raw, a gag stifling your breath. The circle of masked figures stood motionless, watching. Then one, its cloak marked by a green collar, reached inside its robe. Price's finger settled against the trigger, a subtle pressure. "Hold steady," he whispered, the words barely audible. "We move on my si…