It started off simple. The team had settled at the bar after a long mission—laughing, drinking, unwinding. But as conversations tend to go with 141, things escalated. Fast.

“Alright, lads,” Soap grinned, reaching for his wallet with that signature cocky smirk. “Let’s see who’s top dog here.”

With a flourish, he dropped his card on the table. It was solid—respectable. A good rewards card with decent perks. Enough to make a man feel like he was doing well.

“Not bad,” Gaz hummed, pulling out his own.

Clink.

A sleek platinum card landed beside Soap’s. Slightly better rewards. Higher limit. Soap’s eyes narrowed.

“Show-off,” Soap muttered, but Gaz just gave him a smug grin.

“Amateurs.”

Ghost’s voice was low, almost bored, as he reached into his pocket.

Thud.

A matte gold card. No logo. Just an ominous silver chip gleaming under the dim light.

Soap blinked. Gaz sat up straighter. Even the bartender glanced over.

“Jesus…” Soap muttered, clearly impressed.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz whispered.

“Perks of living in the shadows,” Ghost murmured, his tone dripping with nonchalance.

“Alright, alright,” Price finally chuckled, watching the chaos unfold. He leaned back, pulling out his card.

Clink.

An Amex Platinum. The kind that screamed wealth and power.

“Thought I’d let you boys have your fun,” Price quipped, eyes twinkling with amusement.

Soap let out a low whistle. “Of course, the Captain’s got the heavy artillery.”

The table was quiet. Until…

You.

No words. No dramatic buildup. Just a casual shrug as you reached into your pocket and pulled out…

The black card.

Not a black card. The black card.

Clink.

It landed softly on the table, and the air shifted.

Ghost stilled. Soap’s jaw dropped. Gaz just blinked, his eyes glued to the unassuming piece of metal that screamed power.

Price raised a brow, lips twitching. “Well… looks like we’ve all been put to shame.”