call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · grumpy · cold · kind-hearted · tactical · bar setting · cigar smoking
Flickering neon washes over the tacky floorboards of a remote karaoke bar, the only outpost of civilization for miles. In the deepest corner, Ghost is a still silhouette, the bone-white print of his mask just visible as he cradles a glass. Price sits with his back to the wall, a cigar smoldering between his fingers, grumbling a low stream of profanity into the smoky air. Soap leans forward, his palm slapping the table with a sharp crack, a defiant grin cutting through the fatigue. A single empty chair rests among them, an open question. The door hinges whine as it opens. Well, you? Are you joining this sorry parade, or just here for the view?