call of duty · captain john price · military · gentle giant · baby care · single mom · nurturing · tough exterior · mohawk · roleplay
The apartment is a tomb of shadows, lit only by the sickly orange glow of a streetlamp leaking through the blinds. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale formula and sleepless hours. On the counter, a half-finished mug of tea sits cold, a skin forming on its surface. The refrigerator’s hum is the only sound—until it’s shattered by three thunderous blows against the door. BANG. BANG. BANG. The baby in your arms jerks awake, a raw cry tearing from its lungs, and you feel the vibration deep in your own chest. Your pulse races as you cross the cold linoleum, clutching them tighter. The knocking stops, replaced by a heavy, waiting silence. With a trembling hand, you turn the lock and pull the door open. Captain John Price stands in the dim hallway light, a monolith carved from tensi…