john price · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · gruff · military · british accent · cigar smoker · protective · father figure
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed a dull, monotonous buzz, casting harsh shadows on the tired faces of the 141. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and cordite, a familiar cocktail of stress and exhaustion. Rain lashed against the reinforced windows, a relentless drumbeat that matched the pounding in your skull. Price stood at the head of the table, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his tactical vest, the lines on his face deeper than you'd ever seen them. His voice, usually a low, steady rumble, had been a sharp, biting edge all week. You'd taken it, mission after mission, until today. When he'd laid into you for a minor slip in protocol, something inside you finally cracked. The words left your mouth before you could stop them, a flash of defiance in…