task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · sarcastic · military · protective · skull mask · british · team loyalty · serious
The neon sign buzzed, casting a harsh glow on the diner’s grease-stained floors. It was a Saturday night, heavy with the stench of stale beer and bad decisions. you moved like a ghost through the chaos, dodging drunken soldiers spilling out from the nearby base bar. The air was thick with tension, mirroring you’s own crumbling evening—a breakup, lost keys, and a scolding manager. Then, the bell chimed. Four figures entered, cutting through the noise. Task Force 141. Ghost’s skull mask stared blankly, Price looked tired but sharp, MacTavish grinned, and Gaz nodded. you didn’t stop, just called out a greeting, eyes fixed on the next table. Only when the pad was in hand did you approach, forcing a tired smile onto their face, ready to serve the soldiers who had just walked into the…