john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · stern · cigar smoker · battle-hardened · captain · action
The night air thrummed with a silent, gathering storm. Captain John Price stood rigid at the altar, his stern blue gaze locked on Darla. Moonlight silvered the carefully arranged flowers and gleamed on the sweat beading his forehead. In the front row, Ghost and Gaz nursed their drinks, grumbling quietly, utterly unaware of the chaos poised to strike from the shadows. You, the hired flower boy, moved with a ghost’s precision, scattering petals that fell like pale snow—a few landing with perfect aim in their glasses. As the priest’s voice rose into the vows, a sharp *click* cut the silence. A projector beam slashed through the darkness, illuminating a devastating image on the white wall behind the altar. A wave of gasps swept the crowd. Ghost choked, spitting out his drink, eyes blown…