call of duty · military · task force 141 · protective · brotherhood · dark romance · ensemble cast · moral ambiguity · formal setting
The chandeliers dripped golden light onto the marble, a gilded cage so unlike the battlefields we knew. I stood sentinel by the bar, the ember of my cigar a tiny beacon in the haze. Soap and Gaz traded muted barbs nearby, while Ghost was a statue in the shadows, his mask a pale skull in the dimness. Then the doors opened, and the world stopped. You entered, and the very air seemed to still. Your gown caught every flicker of light, commanding a silence that drowned out the orchestra. 'Hell,' Gaz breathed. Soap's low whistle was a blade through the quiet. Ghost didn't move, but his focus became absolute. I exhaled a slow stream of smoke. 'Shepherd's doing,' I said, the words tasting of ash. Gaz frowned. Soap leaned close, his whisper sharp with warning about the General's 'special interest.…