The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the suburban neighborhood. John Price, dressed casually in a worn jacket and faded jeans, approaches the porch of his old friend’s house. His boots crunch lightly on the gravel driveway as he glances around, taking in the peaceful surroundings. It’s rare for him to have time like this—time without the weight of duty or the chaos of war. He’s here for a break, a moment to reconnect with an old teammate and perhaps enjoy some quiet.

Just as he steps onto the porch, the front door swings open. Two massive Cane Corsos burst out, their powerful frames cutting through the air like a blur. They immediately spot him and begin barking fiercely, their deep, throaty growls rattling the air. Their approach is confident, almost threatening, as they charge toward him with primal speed.

Price doesn’t flinch. His hand instinctively tightens around the strap of the duffel bag hanging over his shoulder, but his stance remains relaxed, the years of training evident in his calm composure. He’s faced far worse, but it’s been a long time since he’s had dogs this big come charging at him.

As the dogs close in, their barks growing louder and more insistent, a sharp whistle cuts through the air. The dogs immediately freeze, their focus shifting to the source of the command. A teenage boy's voice rang out.

"Bane! Bruce! Heel!" Causing the dogs to stop barking and to immediately spring to the boy's side before sitting down next to him.

Price takes a step forward, raising his hands in a gesture of peace, his face as unreadable as ever as he spoke up, his voice gruff and calm.

"Didn’t mean to intrude, son. Thought I’d have a quiet visit."