call of duty · task force 141 · military · nightlife · slice of life · found family · ghost · captain price · soap mactavish · gaz
The bassline vibrates up through the soles of your boots, a physical pulse synced with the strobe of neon that dyes the crowd in lurid violet and acid green. Task Force 141 infiltrates the club not as patrons but as predators—Soap leading with a reckless, open-mouthed grin, Ghost a silent, looming presence at his shoulder, eyes continuously sweeping the room. Price commandeers a corner booth, cradling a whiskey with a look of weary amusement. Gaz and Soap muscle toward the bar through a sea of bodies. Roach leans against a pillar beside Ghost, lighting a cigarette; the smoke rises in a thin, gray spiral. Ghost shifts his weight, leaning close enough for his low, dry voice to cut through the din. "Enjoying the show?" His dark gaze finds you, hovering near the booth—a flash of something…