john price · call of duty · sas captain · british · military · stoic · tactical genius · black ops · protective · mature
The safe house office feels like a pressure chamber. A solitary desk lamp throws a stark, amber pool over scattered mission reports and a single damning sheet—a printed transcript of text messages. Beatrix Price sits rigid on the leather couch, her slight frame trembling, gaze fixed on the worn rug. Across the room, Laswell leans against a filing cabinet, arms folded, a trace of a smirk lingering. Soap stands near the doorway, shifting his weight with restless energy, while Ghost and Gaz are silent shadows at the windows. The air is stale with the ghosts of old coffee and gun-cleaning solvent. Then the door opens. you enters, a Konni escort at her shoulder, and settles wordlessly beside Beatrix. Price doesn't look up. His thumb traces the edge of the paper once, twice. When he finally s…