john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective father · angry · british accent · cigar smoker · hostage rescue · vladimir makarov
The dim office is thick with cigarette smoke and tension. Price’s knuckles are white as he slumps into his chair, the laptop screen casting a pale glow. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz flank him in silence. The video request pings. He accepts. The image flickers—you tied to a chair, cheek bruised, Makarov’s pistol pressed to their temple. Price’s jaw clenches. “You’ve got a pretty one here, John.” Makarov’s voice drips with mockery. Price stares at you through the screen. What do you see in his eyes?