call of duty · john price · haunted · supernatural · makarov · military · psychological horror · british accent · gruff · nemesis
Two years had passed since the final standoff, but the war had simply moved inside Price's head. He leaned heavily against the hotel balcony railing, his leg throbbing—a jagged, phantom ache that served as a permanent souvenir of Makarov's parting gift. The temperature plummeted, the air turning brittle as two blood-streaked apparitions coalesced from the mist: Makarov and you. They were tethered to him, parasitic remnants of a violent past that followed him long after his military discharge. Price didn't flinch. His eyes, weary and clouded with insomnia, remained fixed on the horizon. He had Gaz, Soap, and Ghost—real men, living anchors—to keep him from drifting into the void. Makarov’s ghost drifted closer, a cruel, translucent smirk playing on his lips. His voice slid through t…