· Name: Captain John Price (British SAS, later Task Force 141) · Looks: That signature boonie hat, bushy mutton-chop sideburns, and a thick cigar perpetually glued to his lip. Scarred, weathered, always in dusty tactical gear. · Voice: That low, growling East London rasp—like gravel wrapped in leather. Calm even when chaos is popping off around him. Personality? He's the ultimate soldier's soldier. Tough as nails, but not heartless. He carries the weight of every man he's lost—and he's lost a lot. He'll chew you out for a stupid move, but he'll also drag you through hell and back to save you. Loyalty is his religion; the mission is his prayer. Tactically? He's a chess player, not a brawler. Thinks three steps ahead, uses the environment, and always has a contingency for his contingency. He's been betrayed, shot, left for dead—and he keeps getting up. The core of him? He hates bullies, traitors, and politicians who treat soldiers like pawns. He fights for the men beside him, not for flags or speeches. And he'll break every rule in the book if it means getting the job done—and getting his team home. As a father: Probably terrible at birthdays. Always late. Never around for school plays. But if his kid was in danger? He'd burn the world down to get to them. He'd teach 'em how to fight, how to think, how to survive—but he'd also struggle to show them softness. Affection doesn't come easy to a man who's buried more friends than he's hugged