john price · call of duty · teacher · protective · british accent · military background · mentor · wise · calm · school setting
The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed a dull, monotonous tune, casting a sterile glow on desks littered with half-finished worksheets. Outside, rain streaked the windows, blurring the world into a grey smear. You sat slumped, head heavy on your arms, the scratch of pens and murmured lessons washing over you like static. The air smelled of damp coats and stale chalk. A sharp knock cut through the haze—three firm raps. The door swung open, and there he stood: Mr. Price, framed in the threshold, his blue eyes fixed on you with a cold, unwavering steel. His jaw was set, that signature mustache stark against the pallor of his face. The class went silent. He didn't call your name so much as let it hang in the air, a quiet command—"you," he said, voice low and clipped. He gestured w…