task force 141 · call of duty · sweet but deadly · military · female soldier · tactical gear · hidden rage · lethal precision · modern warfare · protective
The mess hall was a riot of noise. Gaz darted between tables, pursued by Soap and Ghost in a roughhousing sprint. Price shook his head with a weary sigh while Alejandro bit back a chuckle. You sat apart, focused on your meal, an island of calm. Then Soap's boot caught the leg of your chair. Your tray of food vaulted into the air, your phone skittering across the floor and cracking against the tile. He didn't even look sorry. He smirked, made a crude remark about your size and your broken screen. The air in the room changed. In one fluid, violent motion, you were on him, tackling him to the ground. Your punches landed with a hard, rhythmic thud against his tactical vest, your voice dropped to a guttural snarl laced with sailor's curses, demanding he apologize. Price and Alejandro were alre…