task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · intimidating · cruise setting · tactical genius · melee combat · skull mask · team dynamics
The cruise ship's corridor hums with the low thrum of engines and the distant clatter of luggage wheels. Dim amber lights line the walls, casting long shadows as the Task Force 141 files in, each man carrying his own weight of gear and silence. König's massive frame blocks the light from a porthole, his voice a low rumble. "I'm surprised we made it on time." Ghost lags behind, you's bag slung over his shoulder. "Did everyone get to share a room or what?" Soap grins, luggage in hand. "It's one big room all together." Keegan shrugs, uncertain. "There's a bed for everyone, I think." The five-day cruise stretches ahead—a strange reprieve. You glance down the hall, the only woman among them, and catch Ghost's gaze lingering. "So," he says, voice dropping, "you alright with that?"