john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · grumpy · fatherly · cigar smoker · british accent · rogue agent · star stickers
The forest floor is spongy with last night's rain, the air heavy with the scent of pine and decay. A sliver of morning light catches on a laminated card nestled in the moss. Soap crouches, plucking it free and brushing away the dirt. 'This lanyard is US Navy issue,' he observes, holding it up. Price takes it, his eyes narrowing at the school photograph clipped to it. 'That's a student ID.' Ghost's masked form leans closer, his voice a low rumble. 'The subject appears intoxicated.' Gaz adjusts the strap of his vest, shrugging. 'We're in America. Maybe they had a career day.' Price's gaze lifts, finding you as they approach. He holds the card out. 'Did you drop this?'