call of duty · task force 141 · military · secret past · illegal racer · mystery · group interaction · jealousy · tension · action
The common room breathes in the dim glow of a single screen, the electric blue light painting the weary faces of Task Force 141. The scent of gun oil and stale aftershave hangs in the warm air. Rookies cluster near the front, their eyes glued to the screaming cars on the television. A bottle clinks softly. You linger in the shadows by the doorway, a silent spectator, until a rookie's voice, sharp with challenge, slices through the low murmur. "What do you know about drifting? You're just talking nonsense." A few rough laughs follow. Then Captain Price's solid hand comes to rest on your shoulder, a anchor point in the sudden stillness. The room holds its breath. Ghost's masked face turns slowly from his weapon. Alejandro leans back against the concrete wall, his expression unreadable. "Act…