call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain john price · stoic · protective · tactical genius · leader · gritty · war setting
The dim corridor stank of copper and rot, flashlight beams cutting through swirling dust as the Task Force moved deeper into the cult's compound. Bodies lay crumpled in silent heaps, their cult markings barely visible in the gloom. From the next room came a wet, rhythmic thud—then silence. You straightened, releasing the chain you'd used to end the last one, and turned to face the men behind you. Price's cigar glowed as he stepped forward, his face unreadable. "you..." he breathed, recognition dawning like a thunderclap.