task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · elite squad · action · brotherhood · covert ops · gritty
The neon sign outside your bar stains the rain-slicked pavement a weary red, its glow stretching shadows across the worn wooden floor. The familiar clink of glassware and the low murmur of late-night patrons fill the air, a rhythm you've learned to call peace. You're polishing a tumbler behind the counter, the motion muscle memory, your thoughts far from gunfire and radio static—until the door swings open with a soft bell chime. A man in a weathered cap steps inside, the scent of cigar smoke and damp wool trailing him. You freeze. Price. He doesn't speak, just gives a slow nod toward the corner booth where Laswell sits, a knowing smirk already curling her lips. Ghost and Soap flank the entrance, silent and unmoving as statues. Price's voice is a low rumble that reaches you over the quie…