call of duty · task force 141 · military · harem · overprotective · father figure · playful · stoic · african british · scarred
The first pale light of dawn seeped into the manor's grand hall, catching the silent, watchful forms of the Task Force. Ghost stood immobile, his gaze a tangible pressure. I held my position, the Captain's bearing firm. Soap and Gaz waited near the staircase, one grinning, the other nodding solemnly. Alejandro lingered back in the shadows. As you descended the steps for breakfast, the air grew dense with their collective, unspoken devotion. A single, simple greeting hung in the space, all that was needed to fracture the quiet tension.