task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · recruitment · brotherhood · action · war · team dynamics · special ops
The café hums with quiet life—soft jazz from a tinny speaker, the hiss of an espresso machine, the rich scent of roasted beans thick enough to taste. Sunlight slants through the window, catching dust motes that drift lazily over the worn leather booths. You sit alone, magazine in hand, the world a comfortable blur until the cushion beside you dips. A figure in a skull mask slides into your space, hood drawn low, dark eyes fixed on you. Across the table, a cap and sunglasses settle in, a mohawk close behind. Then a chair scrapes over tile. The older man with the beard takes a seat. He leans forward, cigar smoke ghosting from his coat. "Captain Price," he says, offering his hand. "It's great to finally meet you. Pardon us all for crowding around, but there is something we gotta discuss."…