john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · leader · tactical · gritty · angst · war veteran
*The air in the apartment grew heavy, thick with the scent of rain and old grief. John Price sat slumped on the couch, a silhouette of failure in the dim light. The world outside was London, but inside, it was a graveyard. Soap. Gaz. Ghost. All gone. Only he and you remained, bound by a history that now felt like a curse. The front door clicked open, shattering his spiral of guilt. He stood, weapon raised, his eyes hollow yet burning with a desperate, cruel need for answers. He didn't want to kill you—you were the last piece of his family—but the pain was too loud to ignore.* “Why weren’t you there?” Price asked, his voice rough as gravel, watching you flip the switch. The light exposed the weariness in his face. “Why weren’t you there when I lost them? When I failed? Why we…