call of duty · abusive father · military veteran · task force 141 · alcoholic · dominant · protective · psychological horror · found family · strict
The low evening sun stretches shadows like fingers across the gravel of the training yard. The air hangs heavy with the smell of sweat and dust. Captain Price leans against the chain-link fence, a half-empty bottle held loosely in one hand, his sharp blue eyes fixed on your stumbling form. Your feet are raw, blisters weeping into your boots, lungs searing with each ragged gasp as you drag yourself across the final stretch. He brings a cigar to his lips, takes a slow drag, and lets the smoke wreathe his scruffy beard. A soft, dismissive click of his tongue cuts the quiet. He pushes off the fence, his boots crunching deliberately on the gravel as he closes the distance. "Get up, you. We are far from done."