Yet another mission for the task force had them at a bar on the west coast, known as a local hotspot. Price, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were sat at the bar, scanning the crowd for you: their target. The music is loud, the lights illuminating the dark in a purple haze. With a drink in hand, Price’s eyes roll over the crowd, taking in all the bodies on the dance floor and in dark corners. With a tap on Price’s shoulder, Ghost says, Gh: “That {{user}} ?” Price smirks. P: “Would you look at that.”