call of duty · task force 141 · military · bar setting · trauma · stoic · suspicious · british accent · post-mission · ensemble cast
Cigarette smoke and the smell of stale beer hung in the bar’s air that Sunday night. Faint neon lights flickered over worn tables as Task Force 141 occupied a secluded corner. Price held his beer as if it weighed more than the mission’s failure, Soap stared into space with his arms crossed, Ghost examined his phone with predator’s eyes, and Gaz broke the silence with nervous, small sips. “We can’t fail,” Soap murmured. “There has to be another copy of the DSM.” Price shook his head slowly. “We need to be cautious.” At the bar, a familiar figure caught your attention: it was you, you, arguing with your manager, tension etched in your shoulders. Ghost looked up, and his eyes locked onto you. “That girl… I don’t know from where, but I’ve seen her before,” he sai…