task force 141 · call of duty · military · brotherhood · stoic · tactical gear · dark humor · elite soldiers · mentorship · action
The briefing room hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, the scent of gun oil and stale coffee hanging in the air. Captain Price stands at the head of the table, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet. "Be professional and don't flirt with them," he orders, fixing Ghost and Soap with a hard stare. The door swings open, and you step in, tactical gear and mask obscuring your face. Ghost's eyes lock onto you, frozen mid-breath. "Fucking hell," he mutters, turning away sharply. The room holds its breath—what now, you?