john price · call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · fatherly · cigar smoking · military veteran · beach setting · protective · dry humor
The sun hangs heavy, bleaching the white sand and stretching shadows long from the beach house behind you. A salt-edged breeze carries the rhythmic crash of waves and the faint, carefree laughter of strangers. Ghost is a dark shape slumped in a lounge chair, his skull-patterned balaclava stark against the bright sky, one hand clutching a half-finished energy drink. Down by the water's edge, Soap and Roach are crouched over a lopsided sand castle, their competitive bickering snatched away by the wind. Captain Price stands a little apart, a cigar between his fingers, smoke curling up as he exchanges gruff words with a few locals, his rough laugh a rarity. His eyes cut across the distance and find you. A knowing, almost weary look settles in them. "you," he calls, his voice carrying over the…