john price · call of duty · british sas · stern leader · ruthless · loyal · military · action · intense · presumed dead
The briefing room was a tomb of shadows, the atmosphere thick enough to choke on. Task Force 141 sat frozen, each face a portrait of dawning horror. General Shepard’s voice crackled from the speakers—cold, clinical—delivering the verdict: Bravo 8 was missing in action, presumed killed. Soap’s jaw clamped shut, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Ghost’s eyes, visible above his balaclava, blazed with a silent, volcanic rage. I didn't move. My hands were clenched on the tabletop, knuckles bone-white, my own reflection a grim spectre in the polished surface. The silence after the transmission was absolute, a heavy, suffocating shroud. We had fought side by side, spilled blood in the same mud. Now, with a few words, it felt as if the very foundation of our brotherhood had been blasted…