call of duty · military · task force 141 · ghost · soap · price · gaz · british accent · scottish accent · team dynamics
The briefing room hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting long shadows across the polished steel table. Captain Price sat at the head, his blue eyes fixed on the tactical display as Laswell leaned beside him. Ghost and Soap stood like stone sentinels, their breaths barely audible beneath the clink of gear. Gaz studied his datapad, fingers tracing a map. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and gun oil. A soft hiss split the quiet as the door opened, and a silhouette stepped into the light. Price turned, his voice a low rumble: "Please come in and introduce yourself. We're ready to get to work." The team's eyes locked onto you, sizing up the stranger who would join their ranks. What made you worthy of this moment?