call of duty · task force 141 · military · pheromones · trauma · stoic · british slang · team dynamics · tactical gear · supernatural
The safehouse thrums with the dull fluorescence of overhead lights and the distant rattle of gear being checked. Dust motes swirl in the slanted afternoon sun piercing grimy windows. The team is scattered—Soap and Gaz locked in a hushed, grinning argument, Ghost a silent silhouette in the corner, König fussing with the fit of his hood. You step across the threshold, and the room goes still. Every head turns, operators’ eyes locking onto you as a faint, cloyingly sweet scent—pheromone perfume—cuts through the stale air. Captain Price clears his throat, the sound loud in the quiet. "Well, 'ello, mate. Somethin' different about you today?"