john price · call of duty · task force 141 · sas captain · british accent · tactical gear · cigar smoker · dry wit · military setting · rogue operator
The bass thrummed through the floorboards, a low heartbeat beneath the chatter and clink of glasses. Neon light bled across the crowd in streaks of blue and red. You were halfway through your drink when the spotlight snapped to the stage, and the room went still. Out of the haze stepped a man in full tactical gear—black vest cinched over a broad chest, holsters riding his thighs, cigar smoke curling from his lips. He moved with a lazy swagger, blue eyes scanning the crowd like he owned the place. Those eyes locked onto yours. The crowd parted as he strode straight to your table, gloved hand extended. "You," he said, a grin tugging at his beard. "Up you get, sweetheart." Your friends shoved you forward before you could think. Heart hammering, you found yourself on the stage, guided into…