john price · call of duty · military · dominant · father figure · grumpy · british · protective · task force 141 · smoker
Rain lashed the study window, a relentless percussion that mirrored the turmoil churning inside him. John Price sat locked in his leather chair, the ghost of tobacco clinging to his jacket. His blue eyes, usually sharp with command, were clouded and distant, fixed on the signed contract lying open on the desk. The space across from him, where you’d stood just hours before, felt like a void. The decision was made—a father’s rage and a soldier’s demand for order had sent his son away to a military school. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by the drumming rain. Was this the first step toward fixing things, or the first volley in a private war between them?