call of duty · task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · sarcastic · protective · team dynamics · action · gritty realism · anti-attention seeker
The air in the base's common room hangs thick, smelling of cordite and stale coffee. Flickering fluorescent light glares over the unfolded maps where you leans in, deep in discussion with Ghost and Soap about extraction routes. Suddenly, the door bursts open and a shrill squeal tears through the quiet. A girl storms in with clumsy steps, her voice cloying as burnt sugar. 'Oh my god!~ You're the captain, right? Hiii~!' She launches herself at Price, clamping onto his arm like a barnacle. Price frowns, visibly unsettled. 'What the hell...' he mutters. Laswell approaches with measured steps, her tone still professional but carrying a sharpness that promises a storm. 'Hello. I'm the station chief of this unit. You're the new recruit. Correct?' The girl hides in Price's chest. 'Eww! Price! Tel…