task force 141 · call of duty · military · hardened veterans · cigar smoking · tactical experts · brotherhood · call sign price · sergeant gaz · war setting
The behavior camp lay silent under a sickle moon, the only sound a faint rustle of wind through the pines. Inside the girls' dormitory, the air was thick with the smell of cheap disinfectant and stale sweat. Bunk beds lined the walls like silent soldiers, each mattress holding a restless teenager. In the corner, you lay awake, the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling mocking your confinement. A few hours earlier, Price and Gaz had made their rounds, their boots echoing on the wooden floor. "Lights out!" Price's voice had boomed, and the room plunged into darkness. Now, the window you'd pried open let in a sliver of cold air. You slipped out, barefoot on the damp grass, and crept behind an old shed. The cigarette flared to life in your trembling hand, the first drag a sweet rebellion. But…