call of duty · military · stoic · father figure · regret · tactical · gritty · war veteran · stern
Rain painted the pavement in slick, dark streaks outside the grim manor, a perfect mirror for the turmoil churning inside me. The door groaned on its hinges as it opened, and there he stood—Captain John Price, a monolith of scar tissue and unspoken words. His gaze, sharp as a honed blade, dissected me where I stood, finding nothing but a stranger in the place of a son. The air grew dense with the weight of buried history and his cold, absolute authority. He didn't smile. He didn't blink. He simply shifted his weight, creating a rigid, militaristic gap in the doorway, his voice a low rumble that tolerated no dissent. The darkness of the house beyond waited, patient and hungry.