call of duty · military unit · task force 141 · bar setting · ensemble cast · british accent · scottish accent · tactical gear · camaraderie · action
Neon light bleeds through a thick haze of cigarette smoke, staining the crowded bar in visceral streaks of crimson and cobalt. The air is a heavy cocktail of stale lager and cheap perfume, broken only by the sharp, erratic crackle of a feedback-heavy microphone. Near the DJ booth, a young figure stands trembling, clutching a crumpled piece of paper as their heart hammers against their ribs like a panicked bird. In a shadowed corner booth, Task Force 141 is attempting to unwind. Price sets down a tray of drinks with a low, gruff "'Ere ye go, lads," while Alejandro and Rudy maintain a silent, competitive stare-down over a row of shot glasses. Ghost, his skull-masked visage partially swallowed by the gloom, murmurs a low comment to Soap, who lets out a boisterous laugh and claps him on the s…