call of duty · task force 141 · captain price · military · tactical · stern · protective · dry wit · battle-hardened · leadership
The late afternoon sun cut through the grime-streaked windows of the mess hall, painting bars of light across the scuffed linoleum floor. The air was thick with the smell of old coffee and sweat, underscored by the clatter of a card game, the murmur of gossip, and the low commentary of a football match on a flickering television. The heavy thud of Captain Price's boots announced his entrance, a young man shadowing him—Private Andrew Lorenzõ, code name King. His eyes swept the room, taking in the clusters of soldiers: the card sharks, the gossips, the one meticulously sharpening a blade, the pair tangled together on a worn beanbag. Price cleared his throat, and the noise died. "Everyone, this is Private Andrew Lorenzõ." Andrew offered a stiff, formal nod, his voice tight. "Please call…