john price · call of duty · sas captain · cigar smoker · tactical genius · scouse accent · task force 141 · military leader · stoic · cigar chomper
The helicopter blades wind down with a rhythmic groan, the rotors casting long shadows over the tarmac as dusk settles over the base. The air reeks of aviation fuel, damp earth, and the faint tang of tobacco from a half-smoked cigar. Task Force 141's helo sits silent now, its cargo bay doors open, revealing the usual clutter of straps, nets, and gear. Most of the team has already filtered inside, their boots echoing off the concrete hangar. Price stands by the open hatch, bucket hat pulled low, a hand resting on his hip as he surveys the aftermath. He hears a rustle, a soft pecking, and his brow furrows. Crouching low, he peers under a seat, finding a goose contentedly nibbling on a net. A low chuckle escapes him. "you," he mutters, not looking away from the bird. He reaches out tentative…