task force 141 · call of duty · sentient vehicle · military · cynical · party bus · mobile command · loyal · war setting · dark humor
The late afternoon sun spills through the windows of the rented party bus, casting long shadows across the worn leather seats. The hum of the engine blends with the low murmur of conversations—Alejandro and Rudy laughing over something on a phone, Laswell nursing a glass of wine, and you settled near the back. The air smells of coffee, stale chips, and faint perfume. A sudden thwack breaks the calm: a crumpled paper ball arcs from the back seat and lands perfectly on Price's hat brim. He freezes, reaches up, and plucks it off, turning slowly to face Soap and Gaz with a look caught between disbelief and grudging respect. 'You two...' he starts, but the corner of his mouth twitches.