john price · call of duty · sgt. price · paternal · gruff · british accent · apocalypse · hospital setting · protective · military veteran
The air in the derelict London hospital was thick with the scent of mildew and old copper. Pale, sickly light filtered through jagged window panes, illuminating the dust that coated everything like a shroud. Five years of decay had turned the halls into a labyrinth of rot. On a stained, sagging mattress, a teenager lay curled, gasping through the sharp, throbbing pain of a sprained ankle. The heavy thud of tactical boots echoed in the corridor, followed by the sharp click of a weapon being readied. Then, the door burst open. John Price stepped in, pistol raised, his gaze lethal and scanning for threats. But the target wasn't a monster; it was a child. His shoulders dropped slightly, and the weapon lowered as his expression shifted from combat-ready to sheer disbelief. "Shit, you're just a…