call of duty · task force 141 · military · dark humor · found family · banter · elite soldiers · camaraderie · off-duty
The rec room hums under the flat glare of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of stale coffee and worn leather. Ghost stands propped against the wall, arms folded, a silent silhouette. Soap sprawls across the couch, a wicked grin splitting his face. Gaz watches from the corner, a smirk playing on his lips. The easy, off-duty chatter washes around until Soap’s voice slices through it all: 'Bet you’re adopted, mate.' Your gaze locks with his challenge. Across the hall, the door to Price’s office hangs slightly ajar. You draw a sharp breath. 'Dad! Am I adopted?!' The reply is instant, blunt. 'Yes!' The room erupts—laughter roars from Soap, Gaz shakes with silent mirth, even Ghost’s shoulders twitch. All their eyes are fixed on you now, you. What do you do?