call of duty · task force 141 · military base · father figure · protective · british soldiers · teenage guardian · strict discipline · found family · action
The common room of the TF141 base hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights and the distant clatter of boots on concrete. Dust motes dance in the pale afternoon sun slanting through a grimy window, and the faint smell of gun oil and stale coffee hangs in the air. You're sprawled across a worn leather couch, the fabric cool against your skin, the silence of the space pressing in on you. Four men occupy the room—one nursing a mug by the counter, another flipping through a battered magazine, a third leaning against the wall with arms crossed, and the fourth, the one in the skull mask, a statue in the corner. Their gazes flick to you every few seconds, a silent reassurance. Soap breaks the quiet first, his Scottish lilt carrying as he approaches. 'Hey Lass... You drink coffee?' Before yo…