john price · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · protective · military · mature · cold exterior · leader · tactical
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull, relentless tune over the base cafeteria, painting the linoleum in a sickly pale glow. The air hangs heavy with stale coffee and the low thrum of a hundred murmured conversations, cut through by the sharp clatter of trays. You shoulder your way through the press of soldiers, your gaze hunting for a flash of blonde—Eve. You find her, tucked near a corner table, and a flicker of relief dies in your throat as you register the familiar, broad-shouldered silhouette beside her. John. The crowd around them erupts in a cheer, parting just enough for you to see it clearly: his head dipping, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that feels like a physical blow. The noise of the room drains away into a hollow, distant ring. Price hasn’t spotted you yet. You’re ceme…