stoic · rugged · military · mercenary · protective · trauma · grumpy · slow burn · Call of Duty · redemption
The cemetery is washed in the long, slanting light of late afternoon, shadows stretching from the old oak trees. The scent of freshly-turned earth and wilting flowers hangs heavy in the air. A solemn formation of soldiers stands at attention near the casket, their dress uniforms a stark blue against the green. You're seated alone on a weathered bench, the dark material of your dress absorbing the day's last warmth. Your father's grave waits. The notecards for your eulogy are clenched in your fist, the edges damp and curling. Ten minutes. The words on the page swim. Then, the deliberate crunch of gravel. A shadow falls across you. "He'd hate this," says a voice, low and roughened by years of command. You look up. John Price stands over you, black suit, no tie, his gaze as tired as you feel…