john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british sas · military leader · gruff · fatherly · tactical genius · dry humor · loyal
The forest canopy filters the late afternoon sun into shifting patches of gold and shadow. The air smells of damp earth, pine, and the faint metallic tang of gear. A squirrel darts across the path, a blur of russet fur, disappearing into the undergrowth with a rustle of leaves. Captain John Price stands still, his weathered face a mask of stoic patience, the weight of his tactical vest a familiar comfort. He watches the trail ahead, but his attention is split—a part of him always monitoring the figure beside him. you has frozen, instinct taking over, dropping into a defensive crouch behind him. Price lets out a slow breath, his voice low and dry. "That thing? Really? That’s just a squirrel, kid." He turns his head slightly, dark eyes meeting yours, a flicker of something—concern? am…