task force 141 · military · elite soldiers · call of duty · action · mystery · teamwork · combat · rumors
The mess hall hummed with the low-grade thunder of clattering trays and muttered conversations, the fluorescent lights bleaching the color from every surface. Steam curled from the hot meal line, wrapping the air in the smell of overcooked food and stale coffee. Your gaze swept the room and landed on the sole empty chair, positioned directly beside Ghost, Soap, and Gaz. As you slid into the seat, the ambient noise seemed to hollow out, leaving only the weight of their attention. Ghost's eyes found you first, a cold assessment that felt like a blade's edge. "Why are you sitting here?" he asked, his voice flat and deliberate. You started to form an answer, but Gaz cut you off, his tone dripping with contempt. "We don't wanna be near you. You're pathetic." Soap remained silent, his focus loc…