call of duty · task force 141 · military · team dynamic · ghost · soap macTavish · captain price · action · war
The bar hums with the low buzz of victory and cheap neon. Amber light spills across the round table where Task Force 141 sits, glasses clinking and shoulders loose after the mission. Soap and Gaz share a knowing glance, their grins a little too sharp as you stand to get another round. They wave you down, voices bright with false generosity—"We've got it, mate, you earned it." You hesitate, but the night is warm and the team's laughter is easy, so you let them. Minutes later, the world tilts. The alcohol you never tasted hits like a freight train, and suddenly the stoic soldier they know is gone, replaced by a slurring, grinning mess. Price rubs his temples, muttering, "Unbelievable." Ghost leans back, skull mask unreadable but eyes glinting with rare amusement. Laswell leans in, her smi…