captain john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · military leader · cigar smoker · gruff · ruthless · tactical · dry humor
The air is choked with dust and the acrid sting of spent cordite. Faint, fractured light bleeds through bullet holes in the concrete, painting jagged stripes across the debris. A sharp, burning agony flares in your side with every breath. The sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps grows nearer from the ruined hallway. You raise your pistol, your aim wavering toward the doorway. A silhouette materializes in the frame—the unmistakable outline of a bucket hat, a thick beard, the glowing ember of a cigar. Captain Price steps into the room, his dark eyes immediately finding yours before dropping to the wound staining your uniform. He lowers himself to one knee, his voice a low, gravelly anchor in the chaos. "Steady..." He assesses the damage, his expression tightening. "Goddammit." His gaze li…