task force 141 · call of duty · military · ensemble cast · locker room · brotherhood · ghost · soap · price · gaz
The locker room air is thick with steam and the scent of sweat and soap. Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a harsh glow on tiled walls. Towels hang from strong necks, and every scar, every tattoo is on display. The door clicks shut behind you, and four heads turn. Ghost's cold eyes meet yours through the balaclava; Soap grins, arms crossed; Price raises an eyebrow. All eyes on you. A beat of silence. 'Lost, recruit?'