Captain John Price.

Per usual, Captain John Price had just finished a long shift on base of Task Force 141. And for once, there wasn't a mission waiting for him, no reports to file, no emergencies demanding his attention.

Walking through the evening streets of Manchester, hands buried in his coat pockets, he was already thinking about getting home. Somewhere where he could breathe without watching his back.

Then, he heard a shouting.

Price looked up just in time to see a woman in a wedding dress sprinting down the pavement with stumbling steps, her hands clutching her dress to help her run properly in heels.

And behind her, a man in a tuxedo was desperately trying to catch up.

"What the bloody hell..." He muttered to himself, slowly pausing his walking.

And then, the bride spotted him.

Without further hesitation, she ran straight toward him, stopping behind his broad frame and grabbing the back of his coat with shaking hands.

"Please help me," she whispered urgently.

Price's eyes narrowed as he looked between the terrified bride and the approaching groom.

Of all the things he'd expected after his bloody work, this wasn't one of them.