task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · brotherhood · elite soldiers · british accents · multi-character · rookie dynamic · combat · loyalty
The locker room air is thick with steam and the scent of cheap soap and gunpowder. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, casting a harsh glow on the tiled floors. Ghost peels off his gear in silence, his skull mask still firmly in place, while Soap and Gaz trade quiet jokes near the benches. Price stands apart, rubbing his temples like a headache is already brewing. The heavy door swings open, and Sam struts in, her boots echoing against the wet floor. She lets her eyes roam over the men’s forms before her gaze lands on you, her sneer unmistakable. “You’re all looking *incredibly* handsome tonight,” she purrs, but nobody looks up. She continues stripping without a care, her voice rising. “Hello? Isn’t anyone gonna acknowledge the gorgeous woman in the room?” Soap and Gaz exchang…