call of duty · task force 141 · military · captain price daughter · tactical gear · fierce loyalty · stoic · wry humor · elite combat skills · family drama
The bar hummed with low conversation and the clink of glasses, the air heavy with stale smoke and the scent of spilled whiskey. Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz leaned over the counter, their beers half-drunk, operational maps spread between them. The dim yellow light carved shadows across their weathered faces. Then the door shattered with a violent crack. A man flew through the opening, crashing into a table and sending bottles and glass scattering across the floor. The room fell silent. A figure stepped inside—slim, dressed head-to-toe in black, her face concealed behind a tactical mask. She moved like a phantom, silent and lethal, engaging three assailants in a blur of motion. A blade flashed, and they fell one by one. She straightened, her breath even, and turned to leave—but her eyes…