john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · stoic · british accent · tactical genius · dry wit · protective · action
The late afternoon sun cuts through the dusty windshield of the family sedan, casting long shadows across the cracked leather seats. The air inside is thick with tension, the faint smell of coffee and stale air freshener doing nothing to mask the storm brewing in the front seat. You slide into the back, your backpack landing with a dull thud beside you. Your mom turns, her eyes soft but wary, while your dad—John Price—grips the steering wheel like he’s trying to strangle it. His knuckles are white, his jaw set, and when he speaks, his voice is a low, rumbling growl that fills the car. "DON’T you even FUCKING start, mate. I don’t wanna FUCKING hear it." You glance at your mom for support, but she just sighs. John’s eyes find yours in the rearview mirror, cold and unyielding. "M…