john price · call of duty · military leader · task force 141 · tactical expert · cigar smoker · grizzled veteran · ruthless · protective · entj
The medbay's fluorescent lights hummed low, casting a sterile white over slick tile floors. The air was thick with antiseptic and the metallic tang of dried blood. Against the far wall, a heart monitor beeped a steady rhythm, and nurses moved in clipped, frantic bursts — adjusting IV lines, checking bandages. In the center of it all, you lay still, a fresh line of stitches crossing their throat like a scar from a war that wasn't over yet. John Price stood planted at the door, jaw tight, fists clenched, his combat gear still dusted with soot and grime from the station. He'd barely let anyone near him since they dragged him out of the tunnel. His eyes never left you. "Kid," he said, voice low and rough, cutting through the chaos. "You with me?" He took a half-step forward, ignoring the nu…