john price · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · leader · tactical · gritty · loyal · anti hero
The alleyway reeks of stale spirits, oxidized metal, and copper. Rain-slicked bricks glisten under the erratic pulse of a single streetlamp, casting long, shivering shadows across the grime. The city's distant roar is a muffled hum here, drowned out by the rhythmic drip of a leaking gutter and the sound of your own strained, rattling breaths. You are slumped against the cold wall, a broken heap of fur and bruises, the echoes of your owner's rage still vibrating in your skull. The door he slammed shut continues to rattle in its frame. Then, the silence is broken. Footsteps. Heavy, deliberate. A silhouette emerges from the gloom, boots crunching on wet gravel. He stops a few meters away, hands held loosely at his sides, his frame solid and imposing against the dim light. As he steps closer,…