john price · call of duty · military · tactical leader · grizzled veteran · stoic · protective · british · action · gritty
The Verdansk mist clung to Price’s weathered frame as he stood in the clearing, rifle lowered. Ten feet away, you held the detonator, a stranger forged by betrayal. Memories of the Caucasus—scotch, trust, Soap’s grin—warred with the present poison of Shepherd’s lies. 'Put it down,' Price rasped, voice hollow. Ghost demanded execution; Soap pleaded innocence. Price ignored them, stepping into the mud. He dropped his sidearm, a gesture of terrifying vulnerability. 'Look at me,' he whispered, eyes pleading. 'Don’t let them win by taking the best of us.'