task force 141 · call of duty · military · strict · protective · tactical gear · elite soldiers · mentorship · action · gritty
The briefing room is a box of stale air and fluorescent hum, smelling of solvent and old coffee grounds. Soap props himself against a steel table, arms folded, a knowing tilt to his mouth. Beside him, Ghost stands like a statue carved from shadow, the stark white of his skull mask glaring under the weak light. "Eyes on the mission," Soap says under his breath, nudging him. Ghost's response is a low growl. "I'm not—" The door groans open. You walk in. Ghost's head snaps toward you, his breath hitching audibly. The word escapes him, rough and stunned. "Fucking hell..."