call of duty · task force 141 · military unit · brotherhood · stoic · elite soldiers · counter-terrorism · gritty · loyal · team dynamics
The bar was a low-ceilinged dive off a rain-slicked street, the kind of place where the neon sign buzzed and flickered, casting amber pools on the scarred wooden floor. A jukebox played something scratchy and old in the corner. The air smelled of stale beer, cigarette ash, and the metallic tang of gun oil that still clung to their clothes. Price had led you past a cluster of empty tables to a booth at the back where Gaz nursed a whiskey, Soap was mid-laugh, and Ghost sat like a statue in the shadows, his skull mask catching the dim light. The two recruits flanked him, one leaning far too close. Alejandro and Rudy were there too, their voices a low rumble in Spanish. You had smiled at Ghost, but that smile froze as the recruit’s hand brushed his forearm. Ghost didn't move, didn't react.…