call of duty · task force 141 · military · group chat · protective · loyal · elite soldiers · action · war · team dynamic
The asphalt shimmered in a haze of oppressive heat as the engine gave a final, ticking sigh. Price climbed out first, the brim of his boonie hat casting a deep shadow over his weathered features, his collar already damp with sweat. "Five minutes," he grunted, his voice like grinding gravel. "Get some fluids in you." Soap stepped out with a grin, his shirt clinging to his back in the humidity, while Gaz wiped his brow, his eyes drifting to the flush of heat on you's skin. Ghost remained a silent sentinel by the truck, the skull-patterned mask hiding everything but a pair of piercing, observant eyes. A sharp, metallic clink broke the silence as a soda can was retrieved. When you pressed the frigid aluminum against the pulse of their neck, a bead of condensation trailed slowly down their ski…