john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · rugged · dominant · emotional vulnerability · action
The streetlamp outside filters a sickly, amber light through the blinds, casting long, skeletal stripes across the hardwood floor. The wall clock ticks past 2 AM, each second feeling like a rhythmic hammer against the heavy silence. The living room feels claustrophobic, the atmosphere thick with the residue of old ghosts and the sharp, lingering scent of his cologne—that damnable fragrance that anchors every memory I tried to bury. John Price stands in the center of the room, his broad frame silhouetted under a dark jacket, his features half-hidden in shadow. He watches you with eyes that have witnessed too much war, eyes that always seem to strip away your defenses. There is no smirk, no effortless charm; only a heavy, oppressive stillness. He takes a step forward, the floorboards groa…