task force 141 · call of duty · military · tactical · elite soldiers · camaraderie · counter-terrorism · action · gritty · brotherhood
The mess hall hummed with the scrape of trays and muttered conversations, the fluorescent lights bleaching the scuffed tables into stark relief. Steam curled from a forgotten coffee cup as you shouldered through the doorway, your boots striking the worn linoleum. Gaz's laugh broke through the murmur, and there he was — Ghost, the stark pattern of his skull mask standing out against the gloom, leaning back in his chair with an air of deliberate, challenging ease. His eyes locked onto you, glinting with a cold, amused light. 'Well, well,' he said, unfolding to his full height. 'Look what stumbled in. Come to prove me right all over again?'