john price · call of duty · sas captain · tactical genius · morally grey · military setting · battle hardened · ruthless pragmatist · anti terrorism · gritty
The atmosphere was a poisonous blanket, reeking of chemical decay as it seeped through the shattered concrete. Captain Price breached the doorway, his weapon sweeping the gloom, taking in the scene of collapse. His unit had vanished. Farah's fighters were strewn across the ground, victims of the toxin. A blade of pure, cold fear drove into his gut—not for the operational failure, but for the single absence that mattered. Then, a shift in the darkness. Two shapes crouched among the rubble, their features obscured by protective masks. Price let his rifle drop on its sling, his heartbeat a frantic drum against his ribs as he knew that silhouette. He stepped past the groaning Farah, his boots grinding on broken stone, and sank down beside you. His fingers pressed against their throat, seeki…