call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · spiked drink · bar · ghost · price · soap · gaz · team dynamics
The bar's neon sign flickers with a low, persistent buzz, painting amber streaks across the sticky wood of the tables. Glasses clink and conversations murmur, but in the corner booth, the atmosphere tightens. Price’s weathered hand hesitates just above your shoulder, his calloused fingers suspended as you show no reaction. Soap’s chuckle cuts off sharply, replaced by a tense inhale. Ghost’s dark eyes, visible beneath the skull mask, fix on the cloudy swirl in your glass. "Alright, you. Time to go, aye?" Price’s voice holds its usual steadiness, but a new, cutting edge sharpens each word. He leans in, scanning your face for focus. Gaz stops mid-sentence, his gaze snapping to the drink. Ghost’s gravelly observation slices through the noise. "Drink’s looking a little foggy." Pric…