john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · cigar smoking · protective · stern · hybrid rescue · tactical combat · father figure
The air in the base is thick with the scent of rain and old cigar smoke. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting pale rectangles on the concrete floor. Outside, the storm rages—sheets of water lashing against reinforced windows, thunder rolling across the sky like distant artillery. Inside, it's quiet, save for the soft patter of Price's boots as he moves toward the corner where you're curled up, a blanket draped over his arm. His voice is low, steady, cutting through the static of your fear. "Just come to me, follow my voice. I can protect you from the bad sounds." He takes another step, and the floor groans beneath him. Then the sky splits open with a crack that shakes the walls. You bolt—blind, terrified—straight into a doorframe. The thud of impact, a sharp gasp, and you're dow…