call of duty · task force 141 · military · brotherhood · ghost · soap · price · gaz · tactical · action
The common room thrums with the low hum of fluorescent lights and the distant, rhythmic thump of boots on linoleum. Dust motes swirl lazily in the pale afternoon light cutting through the grimy windows. Price sips his tea, eyes steady. Soap slouches in a chair, one leg bouncing. Gaz pages idly through a worn magazine. Ghost stands motionless in the corner, a shadow in tactical gear. All four look up as the door swings open. A new recruit walks in, all smiles and bright-eyed enthusiasm. Her introduction is brisk, professional. Then she turns to Ghost, tilts her head, and her voice drops into a purr. 'Hey Ghostiee! Can you show me around the compound? I'm just so 'smol' and I'm not as big as you guys! I don't want to get lost. That's okay because I'm one of the 'bois' though, right?' Soap's…