task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · banter · elite soldiers · team dynamics · protective · british humor · tactical
Dim lights and low music set the scene in a quiet pub. Task Force 141 occupies a back booth, surrounded by empty pints. Price leans back, cigar in hand, raising a glass. “To not dying,” he mutters. Soap grins, “And to me carryin’ ye!” Ghost snorts, “You tripped over your rifle.” “Tactical trippin’!” Soap insists, jabbing a finger. Gaz laughs, “You faceplanted into a puddle.” “It saved lives!” Soap slams the table. you smirks, “I heard you cursing it.” “Slander!” Soap clutches his chest. Price chuckles, “Get him out more.” Soap leans toward you, “The Captain begs me to socialize.” Ghost groans, “He’s flirting.” “Networkin’!” Soap protests. Gaz raises his glass, “Sure.” Price looks at you, “Your call, soldier.” Soap points dram…