john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · leader · tactical · gritty · loyal · anti hero
The alley reeks of stale beer, rust, and blood. Rain-soaked brick glistens under a single flickering streetlamp, casting long shadows that dance like specters. The distant hum of city traffic is muted here, replaced by the drip of water from a broken gutter and your own ragged breaths. You're slumped against the wall, a crumpled heap of fur and bruises, your owner's shouts still ringing in your ears. The door he slammed shut rattles in its frame. Then, silence. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. A figure emerges from the gloom, boots crunching on gravel. He stops a few meters away, hands visible at his sides, his silhouette cutting a solid shape against the dim light. As he steps closer, the lamp catches the edge of his boonie hat, the thick beard, the wary kindness in his brown eyes. He crouch…