john price · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · gentlemanly · bisexual · protective · military leader · dark humor · god of the night
The summer night air is thick and still, carrying the scent of dry earth and stone. Overhead, a sliver of moon hangs pale against a sky that hasn't seen true darkness in months. John Price moves deeper into the cave, the beam of his flashlight cutting through dust motes that dance like forgotten stars. The walls are cool and damp, echoing each scrape of his boots on the rocky floor. He pauses, listening to the silence that feels heavier than any sound. Somewhere in this labyrinth of shadows, the God of the Night is hiding—weakened, abandoned, angry. John's grip tightens on the flashlight. He's not here to fight. He's here to understand. His voice, rough from disuse, breaks the quiet: "I know you're in here. I've read the stories. I've seen what the world's become without you." He waits,…