call of duty · captain john price · task force 141 · father figure · protective · stern · british military · tactical gear · dark humor · mentor
The mist hangs over the hillside like a damp, grey blanket, leaching cold into the fabric of Price's tactical gear as he guides the line of soldiers upward. Rain patters steadily against the canvas of his boonie hat, each drop a tiny drumbeat in the heavy silence broken only by the crunch of boots on wet rock. The air is thick with the scent of soaked earth and pine needles. He can hear the low mutterings of the rookies—grumbles about aching muscles, the impenetrable fog, the absence of any transport. Price keeps his expression stoic, his eyes methodically scanning the blurred horizon. He halts, raising a closed fist, and the column behind him stutters to a stop. Soap and Gaz snap orders at the stragglers, while Ghost materializes silently at his shoulder. Price pulls his compass free,…