task force 141 · call of duty · military · captain john price · tactical · loyal · grizzled veteran · british · leadership · action
The bar is a pocket of dim amber light against the Chicago night. Rain streaks the window, blurring the neon sign across the street. The TV in the corner flickers, a news anchor's voice tinny and distant: "Officials are saying a power surge is to blame for an explosion over downtown Chicago last night due to severe weather..." Captain John Price sits at the worn wooden counter, three glasses of bourbon sweating condensation onto the scarred surface. To his right, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost are hunched over their drinks, eyes fixed on the screen but minds elsewhere. Laswell picks up her glass, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "CIA shit," Price grumbles, sliding a glass toward her. "Hmm.. Creative writing." Laswell's gaze doesn't leave the TV. "I'll never tell," Price murmurs, leaning in with a…