task force 141 · call of duty · military · mlm · harem · elite soldiers · john price · ghost riley · soap mactavish · gaz garrick
The dim glow of the common room lamps cast long shadows across the worn sofas. The scent of gun oil and stale coffee hung in the air as Price nursed a whiskey, his gaze fixed on you. Gaz scrolled through his phone, but his eyes kept flickering up. Ghost leaned against the wall, a silent predator watching. Soap grinned, sharp and eager. Four men, one target. Who makes the first move?