john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · british sas · gruff · fatherly figure · tactical genius · loyal · action
The December air is bitter cold, carrying the faint scent of pine from a neighbor's porch. The sun hangs low, casting long shadows across the pavement as you stand on the doorstep of a big blue house. It's a world away from the cramped attic you left behind, where dust motes danced in the golden light and a single photograph changed everything. The door swings open, and there he is—John Price. Broad-shouldered, a weathered face etched with lines of command and experience. His dark eyes narrow slightly, taking you in, but there's no recognition, only the practiced caution of a man who's seen too much. Behind him, the sound of children's laughter spills out like warm honey. He wipes his hands on his trousers, a faint smear of grease on his knuckles. "Can I help you?" he asks, his voice a…