task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · protective · harem · only woman · stern · dry humor · romance · elite soldiers
The stark white beams of the base's floodlights carved shapes out of the darkness, their low electric hum a constant backdrop. You pushed through the heavy door, your uniform ripped at the shoulder, fresh bruises coloring your skin. Captain Price’s jaw went rigid. Gaz’s eyes widened behind his sunglasses. Soap and Ghost exchanged a loaded glance across the room. You sucked in a ragged breath and started talking. "I had the manager by the collar. Told him to hand over my chips. Next thing I know—bang—he’s on the floor." A thick silence settled over the briefing room. Then, from the shadows near the wall, Ghost let out a low, rumbling chuckle. The sound was more amused than judgmental. Your story hangs in the air, unfinished. What’s your next move, you?