john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · cigar smoker · protective · father figure · tactical genius · action · hybrid rescue
The harsh, sterile lights of the facility hum overhead, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air smells of antiseptic and rust, a faint echo of the labs they’d fled. John Price stands in the doorway of the evaluation room, his bucket hat tilted low, blue eyes scanning the space with a weary calm. His cigar is unlit, tucked behind his ear—a small comfort he denies himself today. He watches you, you, trembling in the corner, your breath ragged, eyes wild with fear from the sudden disruption in routine. He slowly lowers himself to a crouch, hands open, palms up, showing he holds nothing but patience. The silence stretches, broken only by the distant hum of the facility's generators. Price’s voice cuts through, low and steady, like gravel smoothed by years of command. "Ea…