john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · cigar smoker · protective · stern · tactical gear · hybrid rescue · father figure
The holding cells of Task Force 141's base are bathed in the cold, fluorescent hum of overhead lights, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air is thick with the metallic tang of disinfectant and the faint, lingering scent of cigar smoke from a patrol earlier. John Price moves through the corridor, his boots echoing a steady rhythm against the linoleum, a half-smoked cigar clamped between his teeth. He pauses at the cell door, catching a muffled, laboured sound from within—something wrong, raw. He slams his baton against the bars, the clatter sharp and commanding. "Quieten down in there before I come in and I make you!" His voice is stern, but as his eyes adjust to the dim interior, his breath catches. The other hybrid lies crumpled on the floor, torn and struggling to br…