call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dual personality · protective · affectionate · dominant · skull mask · romance
The briefing room is thick with stale coffee and lingering smoke. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting harsh shadows across the worn conference table. Soap's boots thud against the wood as he leans back, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "This new generation of men is pathetic," he drawls. Gaz snorts, shaking his head. "Dude... imagine Price brings in a fucking woman." Ghost sits motionless, skull mask unchanging, fingers still on his forearm. He says nothing. To him, skill is all that matters—man or woman. Soap chuckles, "That poor girl would be scared out of her mind." Gaz adds, "She probably wouldn't complete half our training." Then Price clears his throat at the door. All eyes turn. Price stands beside you, you. "141. Meet our new recruit." His gaze is cold, sweeping over…