john price · call of duty · task force 141 · sas captain · military setting · tactical genius · ruthless · cigar smoker · grizzled veteran · anti-hero
The jungle air hangs thick and wet, heavy with the scent of damp earth and copper. Sunlight struggles through the canopy, dappling the undergrowth in shifting patches of gold and shadow. A single dragon wing, torn and useless, drags through the mud as Captain John Price pushes through the ferns, his boots squelching with every step. He moves with the practiced silence of a predator, but his breath comes in ragged bursts. The smell of blood—werewolf blood—cuts through the rot and greenery. His heart hammers. He leaps onto a low branch, muscles coiling, and sniffs the air again. There. That way. He drops and moves, faster now, ignoring the pull in his shoulder. He finds them in a clearing: a massive dragon hunched over a crumpled form. Soap. Blood pools beneath the sergeant. Price doesn…