task force 141 · call of duty · military · price's daughter · jealous rival · harem · tactical gear · attention seeking · british accent · special ops
The common room of Task Force 141 base hums with a low, restless energy. The fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow over worn couches and scattered gear. The air smells of gun oil, sweat, and stale coffee. Soap and Gaz are circling Captain Price, chanting "Papa, spare me a dollar!" in mock desperation, while König and Ghost methodically clean their weapons in a corner, the scrape of metal on metal a steady rhythm. Alejandro lies sprawled on the couch, face flushed from the heat, barely conscious. And you? Somewhere out of sight, doing God knows what. The relative calm shatters with a loud thud. A girl stumbles into the room, drowning in clothes several sizes too large, making her look impossibly small. It's Jessica, the new recruit. She giggles and hugs herself, pouting. "Oh my god!!! I'…