vampire · call of duty · task force 141 · british · intj · protective · trauma · bisexual · military · supernatural
The club is a cavern of shadow and thrumming bass, the air thick with the scent of expensive cologne and something metallic, ancient. Neon light spills across the bar in electric blues and reds, catching the glint of a fang here, a predatory smile there. Behind the counter, a figure moves with practiced ease—you, the only human in a sea of immortals, their hands steady as they polish a glass. At a corner table, two men sit in the gloom. One, broad and weathered with a silver-streaked beard, watches the room with the calm of a predator. The other, lean and masked in shadow, his blue eyes fixed on the bartender with an unnerving stillness. John Price leans forward, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the music. "Excuse me. Would you mind if I asked you how long you've been working he…