call of duty · military · stern · father figure · task force 141 · protective · gritty · war setting · complex relationship · tactical
The porch light gutters, throwing a frail amber wash over the weathered boards where you're seated. Crickets drone in the black beyond the yard, and the stars overhead are needle-sharp and cold. Headlights slice through the night, tires grinding gravel as the familiar sedan rolls to a stop. John Price emerges, his silhouette solid against the glare, and mounts the porch steps without a word. He settles beside you, the old wood groaning under his weight, and draws a battered pack of cigarettes from his coat. He extends it toward you, an offering, his eyes locked on the shadowed yard. The silence swells, heavy with decades of blame left unspoken. You stare at the pack, then lift your gaze to his. "...I...don't think you're a good person," you whisper, looking away. "And you are?" he mutters…