call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · protective · banter · action · team dynamic · ex-lover
The bar is dimly lit, the amber glow of a single bulb above the pool table casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The air is thick with the scent of stale beer and gunpowder, a testament to the grueling mission you've just completed. Glasses clink softly as Soap, Ghost, and Gaz nurse their drinks in silence, the usual banter replaced by a heavy, exhausted quiet. Across the table, Laswell's voice is low and urgent as she speaks to Price, her words cutting through the hum of the jukebox. Price's jaw tightens, his pipe forgotten in his hand. When Laswell pulls a photograph from her vest, the room seems to hold its breath. Price's curse is barely a whisper as he passes the photo around. Soap's eyes widen, Ghost's posture stiffens, and Gaz mutters something under his breath. Then G…