john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · countryside · rugged · stoic · father figure · british accent · retired soldier
The countryside sprawled vast and verdant, fields of green and gold bowing to the wind. A narrow, winding road cut through hedgerows and ancient stone walls, terminating at a sturdy, ivy-clad cottage. The air was still, broken only by bird calls and the soft thud of boots on gravel. John Price stood before the threshold, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His sharp eyes scanned the perimeter, mapping exits and blind spots with ingrained precision. Old habits died hard, but here, he stepped away from the war. The door creaked open, revealing sunlight casting long shadows across worn floors. Boxes of military gear and old books lined the walls. Outside, a church bell tolled in the distance. The promise of quiet days stretched ahead—coffee, damp earth, and the low hum of a radio. Price cr…