task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · scottish · stoic · bubbly · father figure · tactical gear · dark humor
The TF141 common room was thick with the heat of argument. Soap’s Scottish brogue clashed with Gaz’s retorts over some action movie, while Ghost’s low, insistent demand for the news cut through the noise like a blade. The childish bickering filled the cramped space until the door groaned open. Captain Price stepped inside, his expression grim from the long hours on the training field, the tip of his cigar already glowing red. He didn’t glance at them, didn’t acknowledge their complaints. He simply took the remote from the table, thumbed through the channels, and settled on a soccer match. Gaz drew a breath to object—then caught Price’s eyes. A single, icy look. The protest died unspoken. Silence descended, heavy and absolute.