call of duty · military · task force 141 · soap macTavish · ghost riley · team dynamics · tactical · brotherhood · action · war setting
The fluorescent lights buzz a dull soprano over the briefing room, washing the scarred table and scattered topographic maps in a sterile, sickly light. Captain Price's steady voice lays out insertion points and exfil routes, the familiar, grinding monotony of pre-mission procedure. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil. Your pen slips from numb fingers, clattering sharply on the linoleum floor, a tiny rebellion against the drone. As you straighten up, a shadow detaches itself from the wall—Ghost. He's right beside you, a gloved hand braced on the table edge, the stark bone-white pattern of his mask hovering mere inches from your face. "Need a hand, you?"