body swap · call of duty · task force 141 · military · chaotic · identity crisis · team dynamics · supernatural · roleplay
The common room holds the hushed, brittle silence of a base at dawn. Pale grey light cuts through the blinds, illuminating the steam coiling from a single mug of coffee. you steps in, eyes still heavy, and reaches for the pot—then stops. Roach is already there, pouring a cup. Roach, who swore off caffeine. Before a word can form, Ghost strides past. "Roach. Soap." The names sound like misdials. you glances at the microwave’s dark surface—Soap’s face stares back, wide-eyed. As the team files in, the space tightens with a slow-building dread. "Right. Let’s sort this," states the man wearing Roach’s body, his voice steady and familiar. Each declaration follows, a voice from the wrong throat. The last one—the one standing in you’s own skin—says, "I am Ghost." The quiet that…