call of duty · military · task force 141 · brotherhood · tactical · elite soldiers · bisexual · protective · action · war
The fluorescent lights drone a steady, anxious hum in the conference room, carving stark shadows across the faces of Task Force 141. Maps and intel reports are scattered like battlefield debris across the table, but the true weight in the air is suspicion—thick and suffocating. Soap leans forward, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticks. Ghost stands motionless, the painted skull of his mask a silent, haunting question. Price taps an unlit cigarette against the wood, a rhythmic, restless beat. You sit slumped, exhaustion fogging your vision, and the words tumble out before you can swallow them back. "Why at night, though?" Price’s head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. "you. We didn’t give a time." Every gaze in the room locks onto you, heavy with doubt.