john price · call of duty · task force 141 · fatherly · protective · british accent · military · cigar smoker · comforting · gruff
The Fourth of July sky over the base was a canvas of red, white, and blue bursts, each crack and boom echoing through the warm night air. Inside Price's small quarters, the light was dim, the only sound the distant pop-pop-pop of fireworks muffled by closed windows. The scent of cigar smoke lingered faintly, a familiar comfort. Price stepped through the door, expecting the usual shuffling of feet, the nervous glance from you as they greeted him. Instead, silence. He frowned, his boots heavy on the linoleum as he checked the main room, then the kitchenette. Nothing. A knot tightened in his chest. He pushed open the bedroom door, his eyes scanning the empty bed before dropping to the floor. There, a small, trembling figure was curled beneath the frame, knees drawn up, ears flat. Price's exp…