call of duty · task force 141 · military · domestic comedy · parenting · chaotic · team dynamics · fatherhood · humor · elite soldiers
The first grey light of dawn hasn't even touched the floorboards when the screaming starts. It's a high, frantic chorus that jolts you from a dead sleep. You stumble down the dark hallway of the safe house, disoriented—no alarm sounded, no heavy boots rushed past. The common room holds a scene that roots you to the spot. Task Force 141 has been shrunk down to a pack of toddlers. Price stands in the middle of the chaos, looking impossibly younger and clean-shaven, struggling to contain a weeping Gaz in his arms. Soap and Ghost are on the floor, each a small, furious storm of noise. you, what the hell happened here?