john price · call of duty · strict · protective · father figure · military leader · task force 141 · gruff · loyal · war veteran
The city streets were slick with rain, the flickering amber glow of streetlamps dancing in the deepening puddles. Price stepped out of the pub, the lingering scents of whiskey and tobacco clinging to his heavy coat. A thin, fragile sob pierced through the rhythm of the storm. He stopped dead, turning his gaze toward the mouth of a gloomy alleyway. There, huddled against the cold brick, was a small, drenched figure shivering uncontrollably. His blue eyes widened in sudden concern. Without a second's hesitation, he reached down and scooped you up, struck by how fragile you felt in his arms. He scanned the shadows for any sign of a guardian, but the street remained hauntingly empty. "Shh... you're alright now," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that barely carried over the wind.…