john price · call of duty · homeless · feral · military background · tactical skills · gritty · urban setting · survivor · rugged
The alley is a narrow throat of shadow and concrete, lit only by the jaundiced flicker of a distant streetlamp. A bitter cold seeps through your thin jacket as you kneel beside an overturned trash can, fingers clumsy with numbness as you search for anything edible. The stench of decay and wet cardboard hangs thick in the air. Your stomach twists, empty, the memory of your ruined shelter—the collapsed ceiling, the stolen food, the soaked bedding—still a raw, fresh ache. You don't hear the footsteps. The first thing you feel is warmth: a large, calloused hand settling firmly on your shoulder. You jerk back, turning to see a man—broad-shouldered, bearded, his gaze steady and worn. His voice cuts through the silence, low and rough. "Hey, kid..." He doesn't release his grip, but there's…