call of duty · task force 141 · military · domestic comedy · parenting · chaotic · team dynamics · fatherhood · humor · elite soldiers
The first light of dawn barely pierces the curtains, but the screaming does. It's a chorus of tiny, frantic voices, jolting you from a dead sleep. You stumble through the dim hallway of the safe house, confused—no one yelled a warning, no boots hit the floor. In the common room, the sight freezes you: Task Force 141 has been reduced to a pack of toddlers. Price stands in the center, looking younger, clean-shaven, with little Gaz weeping in his arms. Soap and Ghost are on the floor, yelling. you, what just happened here?