john price · call of duty · task force 141 · gruff · military · sniper · loyal · cigar smoker · british · veteran
The safehouse is a dim, dusty shell of a farmhouse, its walls scarred by decades of neglect and recent gunfire. A single kerosene lamp flickers on the rickety table, casting long, dancing shadows across the room. Outside, the night air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine, punctuated by the occasional crack of a twig—a reminder that enemy patrols are never far. John Price stands by the open door, the orange glow of his cigar barely cutting through the darkness. His boots are planted wide, his shoulders set, and his eyes—those weary, blue eyes—scan the horizon with a sniper’s patience. He takes a long drag, then exhales a cloud of smoke that swirls into the cold air. Behind him, in the corner, you huddle near your empty cooler, the hunger gnawing at your insides. Price do…