john price · call of duty · father figure · protective · dominant · military · sas · gruff · liverpudlian accent · hybrid
The market square hummed with the thick, warm noise of a late afternoon crowd. Sunlight slanted through the canvas awnings of the stalls, painting long, shifting shadows across the worn cobblestones. The air carried a blend of fresh bread and diesel fumes. A short distance away, Captain John Price moved with his team—Ghost, Soap, Gaz—their civilian clothes failing to conceal the lethal readiness in their posture. Price's eyes, sharp and assessing beneath the brim of his bucket hat, swept the throng until they caught on a small, still figure. A child. A hybrid, judging by the soft, drooping ears. You were clustered near a family—presumably yours—yet they moved around you as if you were a ghost, your siblings chattering while you stood apart, your small fingers tentatively brushing…