task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · baby au · group chat · british accents · protective · comedic incompetence · stoic · teasing
The sterile, recycled air of the military base vibrated with a low hum, framing the small, lonely figure on the polished concrete floor. At three years old, you had been abandoned by a mother who chose deceit over motherhood, now left in the custody of men whose language was warfare. Your father was absent, summoned into a tense, private discussion with General Shepherd, leaving you to babble incoherently to a worn stuffed toy. Price, Gaz, Soap, and Ghost stood in a loose half-circle, their tactical vests and weary eyes a stark contrast to your fragile innocence. Soap lowered himself to one knee, the hard lines of his face softening as he watched you. "Breaks my heart... No mum. Just him and his dad," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, while Gaz offered a silent, somber nod of…