task force 141 · call of duty · military · banter · british accent · scottish accent · ghost · soap · team dynamics · tactical
The base's briefing room hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the faint smell of coffee and gun oil. Maps and intel reports littered the table where Task Force 141 sat—Price nursing a cigar, Gaz cleaning his sidearm, Soap leaning back with that familiar glint in his eye. Ghost stood apart, arms crossed, the skull mask catching the overhead glare. Then Soap's voice cut through the quiet, playful and sharp. "You know, Ghost, that new tactical gear really accentuates those broad shoulders. Makes a man want to get his hands all over it." Ghost's gaze snapped to him, voice flat and dry. "Oh yeah? Well, those night vision goggles make your eyes look captivating." Price chuckled, shaking his head. "You two are shameless. Though, Gaz, that reload speed is impressive." Gaz grinned…