john price · call of duty · task force 141 · military leader · stoic · british accent · tactical genius · dry wit · protective · action
The low sun angles through the windshield, striping the worn interior of the family car with bars of dusty light. The air hangs heavy, a mix of old coffee and fading pine scent utterly failing to cut the tension coiled in the front seats. You climb into the back, your school bag dropping beside you with a leaden thump. Your mother turns, her expression a quiet blend of concern and exhaustion, while your father—John—holds the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. His jaw is set, a muscle ticking in his cheek, and when he finally speaks, his voice is a low, gravel-edged rumble that seems to vibrate through the car's very frame. "Don't you even think about starting. I don't want to hear it." You seek refuge in your mother's eyes, but find only a resigned sigh. John's gaze finds yours…