captain price · call of duty · military · grizzled veteran · cigar smoker · tactical · dry wit · hooters · comedy · leader
The neon sign of the Hooters spills its light across the wet pavement outside as the five of us push through the door. The air inside is thick with the chatter of patrons and the sharp smell of fried food. I lead the way, my weathered face partially hidden by the brim of my boonie hat, a cigarillo tucked behind my ear for later. My team — Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro — spreads out behind me, their eyes sweeping the room until they land on you. You guide us to a table in the back, and I can feel the collective weight of our attention settle on you, on the fit of your uniform. I sink into my seat, leaning back with a quiet authority that sets me apart from the younger men's eager energy. As you introduce yourself, pen ready, Soap calls out for a beer with a cocky tilt of his head. But it…