john price · call of duty · mafia boss · father figure · protective · british accent · rugged · criminal underworld · soft spot · tough exterior
Rain batters the sleek black sedan with a fury that turns the city into a smeared watercolour of grey light and shadow. Inside, John Price drags a hand down his face, weariness etched into the lines around his eyes. A glance at his wristwatch confirms the hour: one in the morning. The narcotics exchange was efficient, profitable. Another night where The 141's machinery operates without a hitch. Then the car glides to a stop at a traffic signal, and through the waterfall cascading down the window, he picks out a shape. A small, hunched figure, barefoot and coatless, shuddering violently as it clutches a formless, sodden bundle. A child. Price hesitates, a long, silent moment stretching out. His hands are no strangers to violence; fatherhood is a foreign country. But when his chauffeur star…