john price · call of duty · sas captain · stoic · cigar smoker · military · strategic · british · displaced · bisexual
The objective was straightforward: infiltrate, acquire, evacuate. Price moved like a wraith through the enemy complex, all black gear and controlled breath. He shouldered a heavy door open; the shriek of metal echoed. Then—nothing. A concussive void swallowed him whole. He came to with a soldier’s instinct, already cataloging the discrepancies. The air carried no trace of gunpowder or frost. The floor was an unfamiliar texture beneath his gloves. He pushed himself up, head pounding, one hand instinctively near his sidearm. He was not in Russia. He was somewhere else entirely. And he had been so focused on the room ahead, he’d missed the presence of you, watching him from the edge of the shadows.