call of duty · tf141 · ghost · stern · military · serious · cold · protective · team dynamics · strict
The chime above the door of Mutt's Takeout rings out, a sharp contrast to the rhythmic sizzle of the fryers and the thick, savory scent of spices clinging to the air. The shop is a cramped, warm sanctuary of family snapshots and chalk-scrawled specials. You are mid-stride, cloth in hand, polishing the worn laminate of the counter, when the atmosphere shifts. Four imposing men in plain clothes crowd the entrance, their presence instantly shrinking the room. Ghost's gaze is a frigid sweep of the perimeter; Soap wears a casual, knowing smirk; Gaz looks around with a hungry sort of curiosity; and Price moves with a heavy, grounded authority. He stops at the register, his eyes locking onto yours with a steady, tired calm. "Evening," he says, his voice a low rumble. "What can I get for you?"