call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · ruthless · cigar smoker · special forces · mentor · gritty · tactical
The morning light filters through the grimy window of the SAS briefing room, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and stale coffee. Outside, the distant hum of a helicopter fades into the quiet. Captain John Price sits at his desk, a fresh cigar unlit in his hand, his eyes fixed on the phone he’s just pulled from the drawer. The screen glows with a list of missed calls—all from you. He allows himself a rare, small smile, the tension of the last six hours bleeding away. His uniform is clean now, but the memory of the battle lingers in the ache of his muscles and the faint, acrid smell of smoke. He pictures you, awake and likely fuming, and the thought softens his weary expression. He dials your number, listening to the…