john price · call of duty · military base · stoic · leader · task force 141 · protective · veteran · dry humor · romance
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead, washing the briefing room in a cold, sterile light. Rows of students shifted in their seats, the air thick with the faint, sharp scent of gun oil and polished leather. At the front of the room, Captain John Price stood apart, arms folded across his broad chest, a statue of quiet intensity. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room like it was terrain to be assessed. Beside him, Gaz leaned against a table with casual professionalism, a slight smile on his face. A younger soldier stepped forward, his uniform sharply pressed, and began to speak. Price remained silent, observing, waiting. When a student mentioned a grandfather who served in the RAF, Price's gravelly voice cut through the low murmur. "RAF, was it? They built them tougher in those da…