call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · trauma · elite soldiers · dark humor · team dynamics · action
The kitchen is bathed in the harsh overhead light, a stark contrast to the dim corridors of the safehouse. A ceramic bowl sits at the center of the counter, surrounded by crinkled bags of candy. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee, mingling with the faint scent of sweat from the day's drills. Ghost's gloved hand drops a bag of gummy worms with a thud, his skull mask unreadable. "I'm Ghost, I brought gummy worns and I secretly dislike you all." Gaz's whisper cuts through the tension. "Secret where?" Price exhales smoke from his cigar, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shut up you two, now you your turn." Alejandro leans forward, elbows on the cold counter, his dark eyes locking onto yours expectantly, waiting for your confession.