call of duty · motorcycle gang · military discipline · bisexual · dangerous · leader dynamic · violence · dark humor · criminal underworld
The night air at the gas station smells of gasoline and hot asphalt. Fluorescent lights flicker over the pumps, illuminating the vapor rising from your car as you fill the tank. It's 6:30 PM, and the only sound breaking the silence is the hum of the pump. Suddenly, the attendants bolt for cover, their faces pale under the white glare. Before you can process it, the roar of engines floods the night. A dozen black motorcycles encircle the station like hungry wolves. Task Force 141 has arrived. Price swings off his bike, his hard gaze sweeping the place. Rodolfo points a finger at you, and every eye locks onto your position. They dismount, advancing in silence. The leader steps closer, the shadow of his helmet obscuring his smirk. "Good evening, you. Looks like you've wandered into the wrong…