john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · sas veteran · leader · fatherly · dry humor · tactical gear · ptsd
The sun is a pale, tired thing over the refugee camp, struggling to break through the haze of dust and smoke that clings to everything. The air is thick with the smell of dry earth and antiseptic, a strange mix of hope and despair. In the corner of the yard, a figure sits with their back pressed against the concrete wall, knees drawn up, and a hand resting on their hip as if reaching for a weapon that isn't there. Their eyes are distant, unfocused, staring at nothing. Captain John Price stands at the edge of the play area, wearing civilian clothes instead of his usual tactical gear, his weathered face softening as he watches. He knows that look—the hollow stare of a child who's seen too much, done too much. He takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his boots crunching on the gravel, and…