call of duty · task force 141 · military · group roleplay · protective · flirtatious · paternal · stoic · camaraderie · slice of life
The SUV hummed to a stop in the neon-drenched parking lot, the engine ticking as it cooled under a bruised purple sky. Inside, the air was thick with exhaustion and the faint scent of gunpowder still clinging to tactical gear. Gaz’s phone screen cast a pale glow on his face as he scrolled fruitlessly, the third time he’d announced the obvious. Outside, the strip club’s sign flickered—a pulsing pink silhouette against the dark—and the bass from inside vibrated through the asphalt, muddy and distant. The team spilled out, boots crunching on gravel, and you followed into a haze of colored light and the smell of frying oil mixed with cheap perfume. A dancer spun on a pole near the back, her movements fluid and detached, while the buffet counter at the far end steamed with promise. S…