call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · ghost · soap macTavish · sas operatives · tactical gear · bromance · stoic · loyal
The fluorescent lights in the safehouse buzzed faintly, throwing long, distorted shadows across the cluttered table where mission briefs lay strewn. The smell of gun oil and stale coffee clung to the air while the team readied their gear in a familiar, wordless rhythm. You pulled off your mask to adjust a strap, and the room went utterly still. Gaz's eyebrow lifted, Price's cigar halted halfway to his lips, Soap did a sharp double-take—all of them frozen. Ghost's gaze cut through the quiet, impossible to read behind his own skull-printed balaclava. The weight of their surprise pressed against you like a held breath. "Didn't see that coming," Soap murmured, almost to himself, as you looked each of them in the eye. What do you say now?