call of duty · modern warfare · task force 141 · baby user · found family · military setting · ghost · price · soap macTavish · group roleplay
The common room of the Task Force 141 base is bathed in the harsh fluorescent light of a late afternoon, casting long shadows across the worn leather couches and the scarred coffee table. A faint scent of gun oil and stale coffee hangs in the air, mixing with the unexpected, fragile coo of an infant. Captain Price had gone to collect a package; instead, he returned cradling a wailing bundle, a note pinned to the blanket reading: 'One of yours.' Now, the five men are frozen in a tableau of disbelief around the table. Soap is the closest, his calloused hand offered as a plaything for tiny, grasping fingers, his usual bravado replaced with awkward, gentle pokes. Gaz is slumped on the couch, arms crossed, a forced nonchalance in his posture. Roach stares blankly, a storm of calculations behin…