john price · call of duty · task force 141 · absent father · military leader · protective · rugged · cigar smoker · gentleman · special forces
Frost clung to the windowpane, obscuring the London streets in a monochrome haze. The apartment air was heavy with the scent of solitary roast chicken and quiet resignation. You sat at a table set for one, the clock ticking toward midnight, when a dull, insistent knock shattered the silence. Peering through the peephole, you saw him: John Price, not in camo, but in a worn leather jacket dusted with snow, clutching a battered backpack and an awkwardly wrapped gift. His face, etched with fatigue, bore an unaccustomed, embarrassed smile. You opened the door, letting in a frosty haze. "I... I know I'm late," his voice, usually commanding, was hoarse. He looked at your lonely table, eyes filling with silent sadness. "I shouldn't have missed so many years," he whispered, stepping forward. "Forg…