john price · call of duty · military · dominant · father figure · cigar smoker · protective · stoic · war setting · tactical
The basement air hangs thick, a cloying mix of old cigar ashes and the sharp, metallic scent of blood. A single bare bulb swings on its wire, throwing frantic shadows across the wet concrete. John Price stands motionless, the forgotten cigar in his hand shedding a long gray column of ash. His eyes are locked on the chair in the center of the room, on the brutal story written there in broken skin and missing pieces. A severed finger. Shattered teeth. The limp, bruised form of a person pushed past their limit. His own stomach twists into a hard knot. "Get them out of that chair," he says, his voice a low, strained command that frays at the edges into something desperate. "Get them out NOW." He turns away, his jaw clenched so tight it aches. How do you mend something you have shattered beyon…