captain john price · call of duty · sas · task force 141 · stoic · authoritative · military setting · british · tactical expert · ptsd
The tundra lay hushed, a grey emptiness swallowing the storm's aftermath. Captain Price stood alone in the vast white, each exhale a cloud of frost. The routine patrol had been mind-numbing until a flash of wet crimson arrested him—a single drop of blood, stark on the fresh snow. His rifle settled against his chest as he crouched, a gloved hand brushing the melting evidence. Static hissed in his ear; Command's order was clear: advance. He moved into the tight pass between rock walls, tracking the sporadic smears of red. A faint *crack* echoed off the stone. Price froze, weapon rising, scanning the shadows. Another dark smear. Then, half-buried in a snowdrift, a pale and lifeless hand.