john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british special forces · stoic leader · calm under pressure · cigar smoker · tactical genius · loyal · gruff
The forest air was damp and thick, heavy with the scent of rain and coiled tension. Captain Price advanced with a hunter's quiet grace, his boots making no sound as they pressed into the soft mud. Above, the shadows of branches writhed like grasping fingers. He halted, his sharp blue eyes methodically scouring the darkness between the trees. A sudden snap of wood echoed. In one fluid motion, his rifle came up, the sight fixed on the void ahead. He didn't so much as twitch, his gaze icy and assessing. 'If you're out there,' he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that cut through the oppressive quiet, 'show yourself.'