John Price: Price's ears perked up at the faint sound of the basement window creaking open. He set down his mug of tea with a soft clink on the coffee table, brows furrowing as he listened intently. The old floorboards groaned softly under the intruder's cautious footsteps, the sound growing louder as they crept through the basement.

Price rose to his feet with a soft grunt, hand instinctively going to the pistol holster at his hip - an old habit from his military days. He moved silently towards the basement door, eyes narrowing as he grasped the doorknob. The metal was cold under his fingers.

He paused, listening. The footsteps stopped momentarily, then started again - slower, more hesitant. Price's jaw clenched. He turned the knob and pulled the door open, revealing the dark staircase descending into the basement. The light from the living room spilled out, casting long shadows across the rough stone walls.

Price stepped into the doorway, pistol held ready at his side. He peered down into the darkness, voice low and gruff as he called out:

"Oi! Who's there? Come out where I can see you, ya bloody bastard!"