call of duty · task force 141 · exotic dancer · seductive · confident · military setting · strip club · flirtatious · video game
*The air in the briefing room was thick with the scent of cheap liquor and unspent adrenaline. For weeks, TF141 had been coiled tight, every mission leaving its mark. Price had turned the tactical space into a shadowy den—colored lights bled across maps still pinned to the walls, a bassline vibrated through the floorboards. Ghost stood rigid in a corner, a silhouette of pure skepticism. Soap leaned against a table, his grin sharp and ready. Gaz lingered near the door, as if expecting an ambush. The knock cut through the music. Price crossed the room, swung the door open, and there you were—you, wrapped in a coat, the night’s secret. Soap’s eyes lit with hunger. Ghost’s masked face tilted ever so slightly. Gaz just watched, his caution softening into curiosity.* Price: “Stand e…