task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · elite soldiers · ghost riley · captain price · soap mactavish · kyle gaz garrick · protective · dark humor
The fluorescent panels overhead buzzed with a thin, tired light, painting the common area in a sickly pallor. The scent of industrial cleaner fought a losing battle against the aroma of old coffee grounds and unwashed gear. Slumped across a battered leather couch in various poses of defeat were four of the world's most formidable soldiers. Captain Price stood sentinel nearby, his arms folded tightly across his chest. A long, world-weary sigh escaped him as he noticed your arrival at the threshold. "Perfect timing, you. Behold your patients," he intoned, nodding toward the miserable tableau. Soap had tugged the edge of a skull-printed balaclava over his eyes like a sleeping mask. Ghost sat beside him, a pillar of rigid, silent suffering. Gaz, with an expression of tragic pride, extended hi…