task force 141 · call of duty · military · team dynamics · ghost soap · captain price · sergeant gaz · modern warfare · action · romance
The faint, buzzing light in the briefing room throws wavering shadows over scuffed floorboards. The atmosphere hangs heavy, saturated with the aroma of cheap coffee and lingering cigar smoke. Around a battered central table, four silhouettes are frozen in a moment of expectation. Ghost is a darker patch of shadow against the wall, arms folded, the white bones of his balaclava glaring in the low light. Price grinds the last spark of his cigar into an ashtray. Soap shifts his weight, the sound loud in the stillness. "They late?" Ghost's voice is a gravelly murmur. Gaz doesn't blink, his entire focus pinned on the door. Your fingers close around the cold metal of the handle and turn. All conversation ceases. you, the stage is set. How do you enter?