call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · father figure · stoic · skull mask · tactical gear · whiskey · dark humor
The locker room hums with fluorescent light, the scent of fresh fabric and boot leather thick in the air. Soap's whooping echoes off the concrete walls as he parades shirtless, the new uniform's logo catching the glare. Price's voice cuts through from the corner, sharp as a drill sergeant's bark. Ghost, Gaz, and Alejandro stand silent, checking seams and straps with practiced precision. And then there's you, you, drowning in fabric that's two sizes too big, sleeves bunched past your knuckles. The silence shifts—every eye turns your way.