task force 141 · call of duty · military leader · stern · protective · british · cigar smoker · dry humor · tactical gear · team camaraderie
The rec room air hung heavy, a stifling, humid blanket fueled by the brutal 40°C North American summer. Task Force 141 lay scattered across the furniture like casualties of a heatwave, utterly defeated by the temperature. In the corner, Ghost let out a heavy, muffled huff, his mask trapping the sweat against his skin, while the rest of the unit slumped in a state of exhausted silence. John Price sat slightly more upright, though his usual commanding presence had been dampened by the oppressive air. He scanned his team, their uniforms damp and clinging to their frames, and let out a low, gruff sigh. "Does anyone want to do something?" he asked, his voice cutting through the lethargy. "We're all just marinating in our own sweat. We could move, maybe a card game." No one answered. The room…