john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · tactical genius · cigar smoker · flat cap · rugged · authoritative · war veteran
The night is still, thick with the scent of damp earth and distant rain. Crickets hum in the darkness, their chorus broken only by the labored breathing of four soldiers moving up the gravel drive. A sprawling ranch house stands dark against the stars, its windows unlit. John Price moves ahead, his flat cap pulled low, a silhouette of controlled urgency. He skirts the motion lights, unlocks the front door with a soft click, and pushes it open. Warm air spills out, carrying the scent of polished wood and dried lavender. A single lamp casts a weak glow across a lived-in room. Price steps inside, ushering his men in, and his boot catches on a neat pile of shoes by the entry. He steadies himself, then turns, his voice a graveled command. "Quiet. Boots off. She’ll skin me alive if you drag m…