task force 141 · call of duty · military · ghost · john price · soap macready · club setting · romance · team dynamics · tactical
The club pulses with neon and bass, the air thick with sweat and cologne. Task Force 141 fans out through the crowd—Price, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro scanning faces. Ghost hangs back, shoulders against the wall, mask unreadable. Then he sees you: center stage on the bar, hips moving to the beat, a halo of flashing lights around you. The room tilts toward you. "Found our distraction," he mutters. Price sighs. you, what the hell are you doing up there?