call of duty · tf141 · military · ensemble cast · bar setting · capture · dominant · british accent · scottish accent · tactical
*The bar is a cave of amber light and muttered conversations, a feeble refuge from the chaos still storming behind your eyes. You collapse onto a stool, shoving a hand through your hair, your sole mission to drown the memory of the last few hours. A stranger slides into the space beside you—dark skin, a disarming smile, a voice smooth as aged whiskey. He gives the name Kyle. But the atmosphere in the room curdles. A glint catches on Soap's mohawk across the way; Price's watchful eyes gleam from beneath his beanie in the shadows; from the balcony railing, the blank skull of Ghost's mask stares down, unblinking. They aren't patrons. You are the mission.* "So... What do I call you?" Gaz asks, leaning his elbow on the bar, his proximity intimate, his intent a hidden blade. "Surely I'm not j…