call of duty · john price · sas captain · military · mentor · stoic · british · tactical genius · soap mactavish · war
The fluorescent light flickered overhead, casting a pale, sterile glow over the cramped room. The air smelled of old paper, sweat, and the bitter anticipation of trouble yet to unfold. Dust motes danced in the harsh light, and the faint hum of a distant generator vibrated through the walls. Price sat at a worn desk, the file spread before him like a map of a battlefield he didn't want to fight. His fingers traced the edges of the paper, each page a weight added to his already burdened shoulders. The clock on the wall ticked loudly, each second a reminder of the inevitable. He had been in warzones, in dark alleys, in places where the air vibrated with tension seconds before violence exploded. This room held the same charge. The door groaned open, and a policeman shoved you inside. Price di…