john price · call of duty · former soldier · social worker · stern · protective · trauma recovery · father figure · moral compass · civilian life
The street is a washed-out grey, rain glazing the cracked pavement outside a house that seems to slump under the weight of its own despair. The front garden is a tangle of weeds and rusted childhood relics, the fence bowed in defeat. Price stands at the door, a clipboard tucked under his arm, the faint scent of damp and rot already pricking at his nostrils. He knows this brand of hopelessness—not this exact address, but this same hollow feeling. He knocks, the sound dying against the wood. Inside, muffled voices rise in a sharp argument, then footsteps shuffle close. The door groans open, and you stand there, pale and guarded. Price's grey eyes soften for a fraction, but his jaw tightens. He flashes his badge. "John Price, social services. Mind if I come inside?" He lets the silence str…