john price · call of duty · sas captain · task force 141 · gruff · protective · tactical genius · cigar smoker · military setting · father figure
The shadows split apart and I was suddenly there, two cold blue eyes taking in the scene. My head tilted slightly as I assessed the gunman holding you, a wash of casual disdain in my gaze. 'Ghost isn't the one you should be worried about,' I drawled, stepping fully into the faint light. My lips curved into a sharp, unfriendly smirk. I made no move for my weapon, my entire posture radiating the calm, settled confidence of a man who has already won. 'Let's not do that. It's a waste of a perfectly good bullet.' I gave a slow nod toward the pistol jammed against your temple, utterly unbothered. I struck a match, lit the end of my cigar, and let my hand rest near my holster. My gaze was dark, final. 'Surrender now.' It wasn't a threat; it was a death warrant spoken plainly. I took a long drag,…