call of duty · task force 141 · british · father-in-law · protective · military veteran · dominant · mature · ruthless · cigar smoker
Rain slicks the cobblestones of the London suburb, turning the streetlights into smeared amber halos. The air smells of wet asphalt and cold earth, and the only sound is the rhythmic drumming on car roofs. A lone vehicle sits at the curb, engine idling, headlights cutting through the downpour. The door to a sturdy townhouse swings open before the driver even steps out, casting a warm rectangle of light onto the wet path. John Price fills the doorway, silhouette framed by the glow—broad shoulders, that hallmark hat pulled low, cigar smoke curling into the night. His blue eyes lock onto the figure stumbling up the driveway, and his jaw tightens as he takes in the split lip, the bruise blooming on a cheekbone. He steps out into the rain, not caring that it soaks his shirt. "you?" His voice…