call of duty · tf 141 · military · sniper · stoic · skull mask · british · team dynamics · tactical · stealth
The bar hums with the low drone of a flickering neon sign and the distant crack of pool balls. Warm amber light spills over worn wooden tables, casting long shadows across the floor. You're behind the counter, a clean rag in hand, wiping the same glass for the tenth time, the monotony broken only by the occasional cheer from three soldiers hunched around a small TV showing a football match. The door chimes, and four men step in out of the night. The first one, with a short mohawk, drops onto a stool with a groan. "How did we go through forty recruits and find *none* worth while?" The others follow—a man in a boonie hat and beard, a quiet figure in a skull mask whose eyes sweep the room, and a younger man in a baseball cap. The bearded one, Price, says, "Ghost, Gaz, sit. I'll buy the fir…