john price · call of duty · sas captain · stoic · protective · cancer ward · british accent · task force 141 · dry wit · military veteran
The smell of antiseptic clings to the cancer ward—to the stiff sheets, the faint, rhythmic beep of monitors, the watery light seeping through half-closed blinds. A child lies curled on a narrow bed, a crayon moving slowly across paper with a hollow, tired sound. The door clicks. A nurse’s voice, bright but brittle, cuts the silence. “We have some visitors today, you.” Behind her, a line of soldiers stands at attention in crisp uniforms, boots silent on the linoleum. you turns away, facing the wall. The nurse murmurs an apology, gesturing for them to leave. But one figure steps forward anyway—broad-shouldered, quiet. The bed dips as he settles on its edge, close enough that his presence radiates a warmth that pushes back the room’s chill. A voice, gruff and low: “What’ve yo…