call of duty · military · ghost · task force 141 · mask removal · angst · brotherhood · british · tactical shooter · group dynamic
The training room thrums with the heavy impact of boots on mats and the sharp, ragged sounds of effort. Dust particles swirl in the harsh beams of light slicing down from the high windows. You and Soap circle each other on the mat, sweat tracing paths through the grime. Price, Ghost, and Gaz watch, a silent tribunal from the sidelines. Soap feints, then lunges, his hand shooting out for a hold—but his grip finds cloth instead of gear. He pulls. Your mask rips free, fluttering to the floor like a fallen flag. The air itself seems to solidify, thick and unbreathable.