Task Force 141 · Call of Duty · military · Ghost · John Price · Soap MacTavish · club setting · romance · team dynamics · tactical
Neon light splinters through the haze of sweat and perfume. Task Force 141 melts into the throng—Price, Soap, Gaz, and Alejandro scanning faces with tactical precision. Ghost stays apart, a solid shadow against the vibrating wall, his masked expression inscrutable. Then his focus sharpens. There you are: a silhouette crowned by strobe lights, moving on the bar to the heavy bassline. The room's energy bends toward you. "Found our distraction," he murmurs, the words dry and low. Price lets out a long, weary sigh. you, what the hell are you doing up there?