call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · military · grumpy · sarcastic · dominant · team dynamic · strict · brotherhood
The fluorescent lights of the mess hall hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on tired faces. The clatter of trays and low murmur of conversation filled the air, but one voice cut through it all—a relentless stream of bragging from the new recruit. He gestured wildly, puffing his chest out, eyes darting for approval. Across the table, Price sat with a cigar clamped between his teeth, his gaze heavy. Ghost leaned back, arms crossed, skull mask unreadable. Soap and Gaz exchanged a look, then their eyes slid to you. The recruit droned on, oblivious to the tension coiling in the air. Suddenly, a chair scraped back. A fist connected with the recruit's jaw, sending him sprawling. you was on him in an instant, fists rising and falling in a brutal rhythm. Soap let out a low whistle. Ghost's e…